Ascendence
by The True King11
Summary: The first born son of Robert and Cersei. The Crown Prince. A true Baratheon. I will be known for many things in my lifetime. Some good, some bad. But one thing is for sure: I will be remembered.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own ASOIAF, sadly.**

* * *

 ** _281 AC - Cersei POV_**

I want to see him. No, I NEED to see him. He's mine. My firstborn son. My prince. My cub. The way the handmaidens have him wrapped in a gold blanket, I can not see his face. That has to change. Pycelle is speaking to them now, hopefully telling them to hand him over to me.

That's not what he told them.

He's ushering them out the room. They still have my son. Jaime is just as confused as I am, sitting on a chair at the side of my bed. Holding my hand, attempting to calm down the fire burning inside me.

"Where are they taking my son? I want to hold him." The old man is staring at me sadly, eyes dull.

"I'm sorry, your grace, but it seems that your son did not survive. At first I thought he was simply quiet bu-" I cut him off.

"What do you mean he didn't survive? He's my son, he's a fighter. Of course he survived." I state as if it is the most obvious thing in the entirety of the world. His eyes are still dull as he speaks his next words.

"I wish that was the case but it isn't, your grace. I do not know for sure what happened but he just could not pull through. I asked the handmaidens to wash him for a proper burial. That is where he is right now, your grace." He finishes and I don't think I can breathe. I can't breathe. My heart has shattered. My life is pointless now. He was my cub and I failed to protect him.

"I w-want to...to see him." I choke out quietly to Jaime, who has moved from the chair to directly by me in bed. Holding me, I suppose trying to comfort me but I don't want his touch right now. I want my son's.

He looks in my eyes and nods his head tentatively. He makes his way out of the room slowly. Pycelle left with him, leaving me alone in the room.

' _I failed my son. I failed as a mother who was supposed to protect her children.'_ It's all I can think about. How I failed. How powerless I feel at this moment. How devastated I am at losing someone I've never even met. My thoughts are broken by the door creaking open.

It's Jaime, holding that gold blanket. My eyes focus in on it. Jaime doesn't even know it, but he holds my life in his arms right now. He crosses the room and stands by the bed. He gently hands my babe off to me.

He's the most beautiful person I've ever seen. Tuft of black hair sitting atop his head. Robert may not be a good man or husband but I would have made my little cub into one. He would not have been like his father. He would have been like my father or Jaime. No, he would have been like me.

As I'm holding him, I'm memorizing every detail of his face. I need to remember him for what he is. Perfect.

As I'm memorizing, I'm also praying. To the Seven. To the Old Gods. To the Drowned God. To every God who has been named. Praying that he wakes up. That he wakes up right now in my arms. That his eyes just open and stares at mine.

I don't know when it started but I'm crying now. Tears are streaking down my face as I pull my cub closer to my body. I hear feet shuffling across the floor and the door closing. I assume Jaime just made Pycelle leave with him. Good, I don't want anybody to see me like this.

I lean down to give my cub a first and a last kiss. When my lips touch his forehead, I hear something amazing. A breath. Not just anybody's breath though, my son's breath. I must be going crazy though. Grief has finally made me snap. I pull back to look at him and see the greatest thing I will ever see.

Blue eyes.

Startling, beautiful blue eyes staring at me. I can't look away. I'm in a trance. He is alive. He is awake. He is staring up at me. His eyes never leave mine, not even when I yell for Jaime. This has to be confirmed by somebody else so I know that I have not lost my mind. Jaime enters, and I never look up. He approaches, I never look up. He sits next to me and when he looks at my cub's blue eyes, he falls off the bed in shock. He confirmed it. I'm not insane, my son is alive.

Pycelle must have heard the thud of Jaime's fall, because he enters soon after. As does the rest of the cunts that tried to bury my son. Jaime is pointing at my cub, babbling incoherently. He finally spits out something.

"The babe is alive and awake." Pycelle rushes to my side in an instant. Well an instant for him. I ignore most of what he is doing. So long as he doesn't try to take my son before I'm ready to give him up, we won't have a problem. I turn my attention back to my son. His breathing has picked up some but not enough for my liking. It's at this moment that one of the midwives attempts to pick my son up and take him away, so we can rest.

"If you do not step away from me and my son, I will have you hanged by your entrails on the outside of the Red Keep for the entire world to see." I bark out with an icy glare. Well as much of a glare that I can muster now that the fatigue has dawned on me. Jaime grabs the hilt of his sword for extra effect. She understands the message and immediately backs away from the bed with her head bowed.

"Your grace, she was just attempting to-" I suppose this is the head midwife, or at least the one with the most guts. I cut her off before she can finish.

"She was trying to take my son away from for the second time. The first time was because he was dead, which clearly he is not. If he is tired then I shall hold him while he sleeps, because I do not trust you people with my child's life anymore. Now leave before I get angry." Jaime steps in at this moment to escort them out of the room and hopefully out of the Keep.

"Well this is the most curious birth I have seen. I do believe that this is the first time that a babe has had a delayed awakening, but I could be wrong." Pycelle states from beside my bed. He is writing something in a book. It's a rather large book, most likely he is documenting my cub's birth. "Your grace, mayhaps I hold the child? I need to measure his weight and write down his features and a few other minor details. You can watch as I do these things if you do not trust me either."

"If it must be done, then you can do it. But I will be watching as well." I gently hand my son over to the aging man. My cub lets out a loud wail as the old man takes him from me. And I am so happy that he did such a thing. It proves he loves his mother. While my son is being weighed, the door opens once again. In comes my husband, with Jaime trailing him. As well as Tyrion, the little monster. I forgot he was in the capital.

"Well how are you doing? Ready for another one yet?" Robert asks with a boisterous laugh. Jaime has a downtrodden face while the imp has a small smile. My cub starts to whine a bit. Good, he's learning already. Pycelle starts to hand him back to me when Robert pushes his hands out to take ahold of him first. Robert is now holding my child. He isn't drunk thankfully, so I'm not afraid that he will drop him...

This time anyways.

He's inspecting my cub. I don't know whether I like this or not. Calculating, stormy blue eyes meet alert, light blue eyes. They stare at each other for only a few seconds.

"My son." Robert coos. I would have never believed that he could coo if I did not hear it myself. "Look at you, a true Baratheon. You'll make a fine king one day. I can feel it in my bones." He actually speaks the truth. My cub will be a great king, and an even better man. My cub gurgles and reaches for Robert's face. The smile on Robert's face as my cub touches his cheek is the brightest smile I have ever seen on him. It makes me sick to see it. "Have you named him?" He asks me without taking his eyes off of my cub.

"I was waiting for you so we could decide it together." I say as politely as possible. Jaime quirks an eyebrow at that. Robert nods his head before he turns it to me.

"What about Steffon? After my father. A strong name for a strong boy. Huh, do you like it?" He asks the last question to my cub, who whines in response. Jaime and the imp chuckle at that. Robert laughs at it. "Well I will take that as a no then. What is your suggestion, Cersei?"

"Joffrey?" I say, confident my cub will accept it. He doesn't. He whines at my name suggestion also. So there we all sit, calling out names. Hoping my cub will accept one. Tommen, Lyonel, Tycen, Orys, Raymont, Cerion, Loreon, name after name. All disapproved by my cub until the imp threw out a suggestion. His first one.

He speaks quietly, almost silent. Jaime hears him and asks him to repeat it. Robert quiets down to hear the name. The imp speaks one more time. "What about Draedon?" All eyes and ears in the room fall onto my cub to hear his vote. He gurgles instead of whines so I suppose that's a yes.

"Draedon Baratheon, first of his name. I like it. Good choice." Robert speaks. Jaime nods his agreement, but his eyes are on me. The imp is happy my cub chose his suggestion. I have never wanted to drown him more in my entire life than right now. I do hate him but I also like the name so I'll just move on from this. For now.

Robert is apparently tired of not drinking and whoring so he hands me Draedon and exits the room after bidding everyone a good night. Pycelle has finished his writing and exits also. The imp also leaves, most likely going to his whores and wine. He extends Jaime an invitation to join him, Jaime declines and tells him to have a fun night. The imp leaves after saying bye to my cub. Draedon gurgles his reply. The monster has a smile when he leaves.

Jaime wants to stay by my side but he wants to leave me some alone time with my new babe. He takes the latter and leaves after a kiss goodnight. Now it's just me and Draedon, who is now sleeping in my arms. He has had a long day. One minute he's not here, then the next minute he isn't breathing. And then, by some miracle, he is. He looks so peaceful in my arms.

Looking at Draedon sleeping, my mind ventures to think of the future. Robert will want to foster him somewhere when he is of age. Most likely with his brothers or with Stark in the North. I'll try to send him to the Rock with father. I can already imagine that argument with Robert. I see Draedon sword training with Jaime. Lessons with Pycelle. Protecting and playing with his younger siblings.

I can't wait for the future.

* * *

 ** _Six years later - Cersei POV_**

This was not exactly what I had imagined my future to be. I have been blessed with three children, two of which are Jaime's own. Draedon has become the brother I thought he would be. A protector and best friend of Joffrey, just like it should be. Joff really looks up to him, almost as if he is the greatest living knight. It truly is sweet. I hope that that never changes.

Draedon wasn't alone for too long before I fell pregnant with Joffrey. Only about a year and a half. I knew as soon as I found out I was going to have another child, that it was Jaime's. So they would look like either Jaime or myself, instead of looking like Draedon and the rest of the Baratheon family. Draedon's eyes have darkened to a stormy blue. He has the hearts of everyone he meets. Everyone from the servants to the commonfolk. Even Stannis, the dour man he is, loves to be around him. He may not show it but he is always coming to see him.

When Joffrey was born, Draedon would try to spend all the time he could in the nursery. Talking to Joffrey, well as much as a two year old could talk. Sleeping beside his crib. He had been so happy to have a little brother to play with, to watch over. The next few years, that hasn't changed. It has only gotten stronger. Joff has begun to follow him everywhere, playing knights with each other, Draedon even helped him learn how to read. Through bribery no less. For every sentence that Joff read correctly, he got a sweet. My oldest cub has grown up smart and ready for the game.

When I told them that they were going to be joined by another brother or a sister, Draedon was excited while Joffrey was upset about it. He didn't want to have to fight for my attention with a younger sibling. Draedon whispered something in his ear and Joff's whole demeanor changed in an instant. He jumped out of his chair, ran over to me, and hugged me tighter than he ever did before. When I asked Draedon what he told Joffrey, he just smiled and said he didn't know what I was talking about.

Then my beautiful little replica was born. When Joffrey seen her for the first time, he was indifferent to her. He started to walk out the room to go play knights with Draedon, but Draedon didn't leave the room with him. He never even took his eyes off of Myrcella, he loved her the moment his eyes hit her face. It was at that moment that I knew that Draedon was going to be a force for any marriage contracts in the future. After that meeting though, I haven't allowed them to spend too much time with Myrcella yet as she is still a bit young for that. It also doesn't help that she rarely stops crying.

Pycelle nor the wet nurses know what is the cause of her cries. She is crying right now, same as all day today. Draedon nor Joffrey have cried this much in their entire young lives. All I want is silence, just for a few minutes so I can think of ways to extend it even further. Robert is also being affected be it, so at least one good thing has come from her wails.

"Why must she cry so much? Is her life really that difficult?" Robert asks me, as if I know the answer. If I knew why she cries, I would stop them. But sadly I don't know.

Before I could respond, the most beautiful sound I could ever hear hit my ears. Silence. Absolute silence from Myrcella. Blissful peace, if only for the next for minutes. This is truly amazing. But now I'm curious as to why she is so silent all of a sudden.

While I was thinking of all of the reasons that could have made her be silent, a wet nurse came to our room. When asked why Cella stopped crying, she responded saying we should follow and see the reason. Robert looks over at me and shrugs, as if he could care less about why. I glare at him and he sighs and begins to rise so he could follow. When we make it to the room, we peek inside.

The sight inside the nursery made my heart swell and tears meet my cheeks. There, sitting on the ground with his back against the wall, is Draedon holding a sleeping Myrcella. And it's in that moment that everything becomes clear to me. She is like me in more than one way. She is an exact copy of me. She loves her brother more than anybody else.

She only wanted to be with her brother.

I don't know whether to be worried about this development or relieved. Worried that they will become like me and Jaime. Relieved that he would die to protect her no matter anything else. A presence makes itself known while I'm in thought.

"Like mother, like daughter I suppose. You used to cry unless we were in the same room as children." Jaime says with his traditional smirk plastered on his face. I shoot him a glance, hoping he understands that this isn't the time for this conversation. He doesn't understand apparently. "Only your cries were louder than the princess's are. Look at them, off into their own little world, completely oblivious to the people watching them."

The words he speaks are true. Draedon hasn't looked up while Cella is asleep. It is truly the most adorable thing I have seen. I just now noticed that this little scene has caused a small crowd to form. In the crowd, there is Jaime and myself. Robert, while less than ten feet away from me, is blatantly flirting with some blushing handmaidens. Some wet nurses have also stopped to watch what could have stopped the princess from crying.

Nobody, aside from me and Jaime, sees anything other than a protective older brother adoring his baby sister. I see a problem that may or may not happen. While Jaime sees our past.

"Make sure everyone leaves." I whisper to Jaime. He immediately follows the order. He doesn't have to try to hard, as when the king leaves so does everyone else. And for that, I am grateful. Once we are alone, Jaime follows me into the nursery. I walk into the room only to find both my oldest and my youngest cub asleep. I pick Myrcella up from Draedon's arms and set her in her crib. Jaime grabs up Draedon and begins to walk out of the room with him, only to stop because of cries. Cries coming Myrcella.

"It appears that she needs her brother." She is like me then. I couldn't sleep unless Jaime and I were in the same crib. "What's the harm in one night?" They are innocent, seven hells Myrcella is still a newborn babe. You can't get any more innocent than that.

"Fine, let them sleep together. Just for tonight though. I do not want this to become a habit." Jaime nods, and then proceeds to place Draedon down in the crib next to Cella. Jaime moves next to me and puts his hand on the small of my back. And as we stare down at the sleeping children, my mind wonders what the future holds for my children and their bonds.

* * *

 ** _Three Years Later - Cersei POV_**

I used to love tournaments when I was a child. But with the hundred or so that I've seen in my lifetime, I have no use for them anymore. The best rider wins the jousting, best swordsman wins the melee, and honestly who cares about archery. But here I sit, watching another tournament. Only this one has an actual reason to be seen. It's this tournament's melee that will decide the crown prince's sworn shield. My little cub protects everyone else, it will be nice for him to have a protector also.

Speaking of Draedon, he might be the most excited person about this tournament. It is no wonder why. The tournaments were beginning to bore him also, right until he was told that the next one was for him. He perked right up. Joffrey was also excited, but for different reasons. He just wanted to see blood. It scares me that he wishes pain was brought upon just about every person. Myrcella has shown she is an extremely bright girl. Both mentally and physically. She is energetic and loving to just about everyone. Especially Draedon and Tommen. Tommen may only be two years of age but he knows that Draedon is always there to save him, while Myrcella is there to love him. Joffrey stays away from him for the most part, jealous of the attention I suppose.

The relationships between the children have began to change and become defined for the future. Draedon and Joff have started drifting apart, they still love each other but not like they did. Myrcella has taken the love lost from Draedon and Joff's relationship and added it to her own with Draedon. Everything she does, she does for approval and appraisal from Drae. He happily obliges her. The relationship for Tommen with the others are loving and supportive from Cella and Drae. Joffrey ignores him for the most part.

I know Joffrey still has it in him to be the scared little brother like before. He proved it just two years ago, during the Greyjoy Rebellion. He cried and latched on to Draedon when Robert left. Draedon really stepped up and became the prince the city needed at the time. He was the lifeline of Cella and Joff. He stayed strong for us all. Since the end of the rebellion though, he hasn't reverted back to who he was yet. He still thinks he has to be strong for everybody. And that frightens me. If he keeps it up, he will self implode and he will never be the same again. I wish he would talk to me. But he has remained the best brother to all of his siblings.

Like right now, Tommen is sitting on Draedon's lap. Giggling after being tickled by him. Cella is directly beside them in another chair with a happy smile plastered on her face, while Joff is by me. Scowling at them. He is so angry now, I don't understand why though. He has a good life. A loving family. He is just so dark. I'll have to work harder to show him he is loved. Draedon will be fine with less attention, Cella will turn to Draedon for more, and Tommen is too young to really care about it too much. Back to the tournament, the jousting just finished. Jaime won it after defeating some hedge knight, whose name I have already forgotten. All of the young men with jousting talent did not compete in the joust. They are saving themselves for what's next. The melee. Ser Arys Oakheart from the Reach. Both the Clegane brothers are also competing. I pray that the Mountain does not win. I do not want that monster by my cub's side all day every day. Always in his ear, throwing out his own advice and insight on situations. Instilling bloodlust in my son. He might very well force a sword into his hands.

At ten years of age, Draedon has not found any interest in swordplay. Jaime nor Ser Barristan can get him interested in it. Myself nor Robert can do so either. Robert is rather extremely disappointed in that. Fortunately, he doesn't just lounge around all day long. After his lessons, he prefers to read and learn about history and other subjects. Such as war tactics and strategy. He knows he's meant to be a leader instead of a soldier. I'm proud that he has distinguished that fact so early in life. He is preparing for being king the right way. Although I wish he would take an interest in some weapon so he can defend himself.

Robert calls for the first match to begin. The Mountain against a distant Lannister cousin of mine. Oh, I wonder who will win. The man barely pushing six foot tall or the monster standing at eight feet. They may be only using blunted tourney swords but that doesn't make Clegane any less dangerous. Just as quickly as the match starts, it ends. Clegane advances with a brutal swing. A broken helmet and a shattered jaw is what our cousin ends with. Quite lucky, if I say so myself.

Sandor Clegane is next up against one of the many Frey's. Steffon the Sweet, I believe. What a horrible name for a man. The Frey's produce too many members of their horrible weasel looking family. This one doesn't even look as if he seen any sort of battle, compared to the proven killer in Clegane. We will see if 'Sweet' can be deadly.

The match begins with them circling each other in the yard. Frey breaks it for a wide swing, Clegane blocks it with his shield and then shoulder charges Frey's shield to knock him down. It succeeds somewhat, Frey stumbles backwards. Clegane jumps at the weakness with an overhead swing. Frey drops to his knee to block it with the shield. Clegane kicks the shield, it flys out of Frey's hold. Now Frey only has a sword against a monster of a man. Clegane sees that and smells blood in the water. He swings fast and wildly, trying to catch Frey in another moment of weakness.

He finds that moment when his sword is blocked low by Frey's feet. Clegane's shield meets Frey's face. Easily a broken nose if not more. In those few seconds of complete weakness, Clegane finishes the fight with a headbutt with his hound helmet on. Frey is out cold, bleeding profusely from the broken nose and a giant gash on the top of his head. In a real fight, Frey would have a sword through his chest right about now. While Clegane would be on to his victim. Clegane wins and advances to the next round.

Bets are being made on the victor. The smart gamble would be the Mountain. I am hoping a miracle stops him from winning. If only I could be so lucky. My little cub will be around that monster for the test of his life. Although, that will mean he has a close to unstoppable warrior by his side. In times of war, that will be very helpful.

While everyone else is watching the Mountain, I'm watching his younger brother. The Hound is almost as deadly as the Mountain, just less experience. He has the best chance to beat Gregor out of everyone. He's close, if not already over 7 feet. The scars just add to his menacing look.

So there we all sat. Watching match after match until there was only two men were left. Gregor Clegane, the Mountain that Rides, versus Sandor Clegane, The Hound. The fight that has been brewing for years, ever since the toy incident if rumors are true. I'm not going to be the one to ask the Hound about his scars. By the time they enter the yard, everyone is already on their feet. Waiting in anticipation.

The two monsters of men stand before the royal pavilion and bow to us. They part ways with a wave from Robert, and set their feet in battle positions. Silence fills the yard, not a word is said as swords are drawn. Right as Robert is about to yell for it to begin, the silence is broken.

"My Lord, message for you." The Mountain's squire says, quietly if I do say so myself. Perhaps out of fear for his Lord. Gregor looks to him and shrugs his shoulders. He averts his eyes back to little brother and crouches in position just a little. "My Lord, it's urgent." The squire again interrupts.

Gregor's pissed now. He stabs his sword into the ground and throws his shield across the yard as if it was rock in his way. He rips his helmet off and marches to the squire. He snatches the parchment and slams the helmet into the boy's chest. Most definitely going to bruise the boy. He reads the parchment once. Twice. Three times, before he speaks in his rough gravely voice of his.

"I forfeit." As soon as he says that, he turns and leaves. Squire on his heels as he walks. Nobody knows what just happened, so we are all silent. Until someone breaks it.

"So he's my sworn shield?" Draedon whispers. More to himself than to anyone else. But he broke Robert out of his stupor.

"People of King's Landing, may I present to you your champion." People clapped and cheered for the young man. It may not have ended the way they wanted but they'll get over it. "Sandor Clegane, I Robert of House Baratheon, First of my name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms do hereby name you sworn shield of my eldest son and Crown Prince, Draedon."

And now my eldest cub has a protector, a secret keeper, a mentor, and a friend in his loyal dog. Today has been a good day.

* * *

 ** _4 Years Later - Sandor POV - 294 AC_**

When I swore my life to protect the Prince, I assumed he would be different from what he is. I thought he would arrogant. I thought he would be stupid. And when I first saw him, I assumed he loved to fight from his body type.

A tall child, taller than most of his peers. Takes after his father in that aspect. High cheekbones from his mother. Shoulder length dark hair with stormy blue eyes. He will grow to be the exact replica of his father. Muscled like a maiden's fantasy. He even showed no fear when looking at me. That surprised me, most can't handle it. But he smiled at me. A legitimate smile of happiness.

I was wrong about his personality and attitude. The boy is very bright. Well above average in terms of intelligence. He is a bookish boy. Strange really. Most boys prefer to hit something at his age. He was a late bloomer in that category. I remember his exact words to me the morning he wanted to train.

I was waiting for him at breakfast, standing in the back while his family are. He leisurely strolls in with a determined look in his eye. We make eye contact and he speaks.

"Sandor, I require a sword and shield. It seems I must become a warrior." A boy of two and ten. That's when he decides to learn. His family stops what they are doing and look at him. He smirks and says, "I'll be in the training yard waiting for you, Sandor." And he walks away.

And I walked after him. He was waiting for me, like he said he would be. I hand him the weapons he asked for and we began. And we trained like that for close to nine hours straight. He has a natural talent for the song of swords but not the love that myself and my brother have for it. Not yet anyways.

Everyday for hours at a time, we would spend training. For five moons he worked hard and it showed in his two and ten year old body. The problem wasn't his ability, no. The problem was the fact that he refrained from violence as much as possible. He never shied away in training, but he never jumped at the opportunity to fuck somebody up either. He just beat you without finishing it.

But then he began to foster with his uncle Stannis on Dragonstone. We still trained but nothing like we were used to. Actually I was usually doing a task for Draedon. For half a year we stayed on that island. He remained inside most of the time, reading books, playing with the greyscale girl, or learning something from Lord Stannis. It was quite boring actually.

Then, on the day of our return to the capital, we were finishing up our training regiment. I allowed him to beat me, just to see if he changed any during our tenure on the island. He had changed. When I was down on the ground, he kicked my sword away and put his blade to my throat. A first for him, he usually backs away and sheaths his blade. So now I'm curious.

"What changed?" I ask him simply. He understands what I speak of.

"Uncle Stannis taught me to never let my enemy up if I can give them a quick clean death." I nod at his reply. At least he finally learned. Late bloomer in the art of war and combat, but at least he understands sooner or later. Preferably sooner, so he doesn't die. He would be a good King.

Much better than that little shit, Joffrey. That's for sure. He's starting to become a hassle and a problem for my Prince. It's my duty to put an end to his problems for him. So the boy needs to calm the fuck down with his attitudes. I saw what he did to that kitchen maid's pregnant cat. If Draedon ever gets an animal companion and that happens to it, I will personally rip that little cunt's eyes out and skull fuck him.

The Prince is a great person to work for. He allows me to give him advice when he wants it, he allows me to roam where ever I want as long as I do nothing extremely bad, and he never speaks badly to me. For those reasons, I will stay forever loyal to that boy. So long as he will let me stay.

Just a few days after our arrival to the capital, Draedon had to settle the cat issue. He paid the maid five gold pieces and replaced the cat with a new kitten. He also apologized on behalf of the entire family. He was quite respectful and he handled it really well. Good starting point for the political world he was born into. His parents were proud of him it appeared. I was proud of how he handled himself in that situation. Real King like.

After that was handled, we were called in to listen to some of the common folk's problems. A small village west of Antlers was raided by bandits. This was not the first time for this village either. This was the fourth time this month. When the King dismissed them as small rabble, Draedon stepped forward.

"Father, I wish to handle these bandits. If that is acceptable, I wish to leave immediately." He spoke very clearly and refined. The Queen was instantly against the idea, but the King dismissed her with a wave.

"Very well, you are my son and the future King. It is about time you deal with a serious issue on your own. Go collect some men and be on your way then." That was the end of the discussion. Draedon waved me to follow and follow I did.

He kissed his sobbing sister goodbye and we were on our way out to the training yard for recruitment. Turns out the Prince has a silver tongue when it comes to motivating men for his cause, as we now have close to thirty men at our backs. As we begin to leave, the Queen stops us at the gate.

"Draedon, must you leave so soon. The bandits can wait another day or two." She pleads with him, as close to begging that she will get.

"A King should never wait to save his people." And with that, he spurs his horse into a gallop. He never saw the looks on small folk's faces when they heard that. It was anticipation. They are ready for a King like that. We all follow soon behind.

With the speed we ride, we make it to Rosby by night fall. Obviously, they are quite accommodating to our party. Although, we don't supp with them. We just take some light supplies and head to our rooms to sleep for the long day on the morrow. Draedon wakes me before dawn to break our fast and to start preparing to ride. He begins to wake the rest of the men also. While the men are eating, I take the opportunity to study our leader. This is his first real fight, I can see he's nervous. He hasn't eaten much. I see his hand, shaking when he reaches for his cup. He's scared. But about what in particular, I wonder.

"Your Grace, may I speak to you for a moment?" I ask him. He nods and we walk to the corner of the room.

"What is it Sandor?" His voice breaks a little.

"Are you going to be okay? You don't have to come with us today. I can lead the men and end it quickly." I give him an out. I know he won't take it though.

"What kind of Prince would I be if I backed down from some lowlife bandits, Sandor?" I knew he wouldn't take it.

"Well if that's your mentality, then why are you so nervous? You've barely eaten and you are shaking like a flower in the wind." He looks taken aback for a moment before he sighs and rubs the back of his head.

"It's that obvious then?" I just stare at him. He sighs on more time. "I'm scared, Sandor. I'm scared that I won't be good enough to lead these men to victory. And if I can't do that, how could I possibly lead the Seven Kingdoms?" He is so full of self doubt that he honestly believes that? I wish I would have known this earlier in my servitude, I would have tried to fix it. "Soon everyone will see that I'm weak, and then nobody will follow me. You will abandon me just like my family will. And I'm scared for that. I don't want to be alone."

"My Prince, I will never abandon you. You have my loyalty until the day I die. Secondly, your family won't abandon you either. Your sister loves you more than a flower loves sunshine. And thirdly, you're not weak. When we finish the bandits off today, you will see that you are not weak. But that you are strong, stronger than you will ever know." I put my hands on his shoulders to hold him here until the end.

"A weak man will raid a village, a strong man will defend it. A weak man will kill an innocent child, a strong man will protect it. My brother is a weak man, but you aren't. Look, Draedon," he makes eye contact with me now, "it's hard to take your first life for a lot of men. But it's something you must do in order to grow up and become stronger. Do you understand?" He nods slowly, the recognition in his eyes beginning to settle in. "Good, now let's eat something. It's no good to fight on an empty stomach." We sit down again and begin to eat some more.

I'm not a motivational speaker but for my Prince, I will be what he needs me to be. Fuck, the boy is making me soft. I killed my first man when I was twelve, I shouldn't care about his feelings. Yet here I am, calming him down. Sometimes I wish he was a arrogant little prick, so I wouldn't care too much. But he isn't that sadly.

With fresh supplies, we are on our way to the small village where the attack happened. We make good time with minimal breaks, mainly just resting the horses. Draedon has me go out to the nearby woods for scouting. Maybe if I'm lucky I can find some of these bandits and bloody my blade. I take with me ten men, just in case we do find some of them. I feel like this is a waste of time, the sun is going to begin going down soon anyways. About an hour of scouting later, I find nothing so my group begins to trek back to the village. I was correct in my assumption about the sun. It started going down about twenty minutes ago. It begins to rain on our way back.

I can feel something is not right. As we are walking back, we hear screams coming from the village. It's under attack. It's under attack and I'm not with the Prince. By the time we make it back, a battle is happening. I see the bodies already on the ground, blood cascading down their bodies. I see the Prince leading the men that stayed with him, blood covering his entire front. Standing toe to toe with a man taller and stronger than him. Blades locked until Draedon does a graceful spin and slices the man across his back. The man drops to his knee, only to have a sword enter through his back and exit his chest. There is something poetic about a young Prince leading his men in the middle of a storm with blood covering him.

We're outnumbered almost two to one. More than what we were told about. Let's fucking kill these bastards. My group pulls our swords out and join the fighting. In an instant, I'm by Draedon's side. They lack technique and proper steel. It's not long before those fifty drop down to only ten. They surrender quickly when they realize that numbers didn't help them.

"What do you want us to do with them, my Prince?" One of our men asks. Draedon thinks on it for a moment.

"Listen up. You have two choices. Death or the Wall. Make your choice and do it quickly." Three men choose death. Seven choose the Wall. "Sandor, find me something I can use as a chopping block." I scamper off to find something. I come back with a solid piece of wood, used for chopping wood. So it will do just fine.

"Here you are, my Prince. Should I take their heads?" I set the wood down and grab the first man who will die. The man looks as if he hasn't shaved in over a year.

"No. I'll do it myself. I need to do this." I nod my head and hand him a sword. Three and ten years old and about to behead three men himself. Good, it's nice that he still wants to finish things. It takes him a single swing to take the man's head. Now the other two want the Wall, now that it's their turns. "There are no second chances in life. You made your decisions, now stay with them." Now I'm impressed. After the next two took their last breaths, Draedon said something I did not expect.

"Sandor, cut off a finger for each raid that they did. You won't need all of them to take orders at the Wall." At that, he walked away and I chopped fingers off. We left the village two days later, only to make it to the capital the same day. Only stopping to rest the horses. We left with thirty and returned with eighteen. Not a bad trip really.

They have some guards at the Old Gate when we return. They deny us entry until Draedon tells them who he is. They immediately back down, not wanting to upset the Crown Prince. The men disperses as soon as we touch our feet to cobblestone. Draedon makes sure the horses are taken and are going to be properly fed and watered before we enter the Keep. When we make it to the throne room, we find out the King is holding court. The Queen spots us and almost instantly leaps with joy from her seat.

"My son is back. Are you injured? Did something terrible happen? Did you allow something to happen to him?" The last question was directed at me. Draedon hugs her and she immediately calms down and sinks into the hug.

"I'm fine mother. The bandits are taken care of and I am uninjured, mainly due to Sandor." I smirk at that. He gave me praise, that's surprising to me. But I won't question it. The King speaks next, with a booming laugh.

"That's my boy, already cracking skulls in such a way. I'm proud of you, Draedon. But because you did me and the people a favor by taking care of the bandit problem, name me a boon and I will see it done." Draedon stands still for a moment. Thinking for what he wants. The court is silent, as well as the members of the Small Council. "Do you need some time to think or do you know what you want?"

"I know what I want. I want you to do what should have been a long time ago." Now everybody's interest is piqued. The King leans closer. "I want you to give Uncle Stannis what is rightfully his. Storm's End." Stannis is shocked, it shows on his face. The King is also, hells Renly is outraged. Renly is about to speak when Draedon cuts him off. "It was his to rule until you slighted him for something he couldn't control. Fix the wrong that you did at the beginning of your rule so I don't have to do it when you die." He is a fierce little fucker when he sets his mind to something. The King is silent, as is everyone else in the room. Waiting for his decision or retort.

"Fine. Stannis you have half a year to secure their allegiance to you and to make your home in Storm's End. Renly, same to you for Dragonstone. We will finalize the switch later. Now I am tired and I need to speak to the Crown Prince. Alone." Stannis is still shocked, Renly still outraged, and the rest of the court is appraising the Crown Prince and his politics I assume. The King grabs Draedon and heads into a room down the hall. They are the only ones to enter.

I never did find out what the King and the Prince talked about privately. Not even the Queen knows, nor even Varys for that matter. Weird man he is. A few weeks after we returned from the bandits, Draedon was invited to Casterly Rock by Lord Tywin himself. So what does Draedon do? He brings his Uncle Tyrion with him to the Rock. Trying to make a statement I believe.

Tyrion shows us where we will be staying for the duration of our stay. Rooms are a bit extravagant but I'm not gonna complain about it. So long as it has a bed, I'm fine. Draedon is called to Lord Tyson's solar not long after. I was told to wait outside while he met with his grandfather for the first time.

 ** _Tywin POV_**

When the boy entered my solar, I examined him rather blatantly. I stared at him to see what type of man he will become. A weak man like my father, or something more. To his credit, the boy never faltered from my stare. That should say something. He stood by the chair on the opposite side of my desk, waiting for it to be offered to him. So that's what I did.

"Please, sit down Your Grace. I know you must be tired from the journey so I will keep this short so that you may rest. I am Tywin, your grandfather. And you were asked here for one simple reason, the future." He quirked an eye brow at that.

"The future, my lord?" Respectful, well mannered, and a protector of his people... How is this Robert's child?

"Yes, the future. Your father has Jon Arryn as his hand, with the Stark's army backing him up. But what do you have? When you take over, you will notice that Dorne never comes out of their deserts. Northerners never come South unless for war. The Iron Islands wish to be nothing more than raiders. While the Reach wishes for more power. When you assume the throne, I can help you keep it and help you keep the Kingdoms aligned to you and only you. All you need to do is ask." It is a good offer. I have experience in politics and war. Much more than he does.

"Forgive me, my Lord, but I will have to put your offer to the side for right now. As I am no where close to ascending to the throne, so I do not wish to make alliances for the future that one side may never see. My father has the possibility to live for another fifty years or so, while you on the other hand, don't. So if it pleases you my Lord, I'm going to retire for the night. As you were correct to assume the journey was quite long." He stands from the chair and begins to make his exit after I nod my agreement, when he abruptly stops. "Actually my Lord, may I ask a favor from you?" A favor, that may be even better than an alliance. If he is in my debt, I may be able to do things that I otherwise wouldn't try.

"Of course, your Grace. How may I help you?" It helps that I'm genuinely curious, as well.

"I ask you to loan me 50,000 gold dragons." Ahh, so it is Robert's son.

"May I ask what for?"

"I understand your concern, my Lord, but my business is my own. And I understand that I do not have any credit for you to really trust me but a man is only as good as his word. You will get your gold back, I promise it." Well that's nicely played. I could have him watched to see what it's for.

"Very well your Grace. I will make sure it's arranged by the time you leave for the capital. Have a nice night." And with that, he leaves.

That boy, with the right teacher, could be extremely dangerous in the game when he gets older. I will have to earn his loyalty. That might prove to be tricky. And if I can't get him under my control, I will put somebody else on the throne who will be under it.


	2. Hand of the King

_A/N: To the guest who asked, yes it was a Rhaegar quote. Only Rhaegar said armor instead of shield. And the pairing is still undecided at this point._

* * *

 _297 AC - Draedon POV_

Jon Arryn is dead. Uncle Stannis is back in Storm's End now. And father, along with the rest of my family, has gone to the North in search of a new Hand. Which means that I had to stay down in King's Landing to run the Kingdoms. Mainly because I do not trust Baelish or Renly to properly run them. Varys truly cares for the realm but there is something about him that makes me not fully trust him. Aside from my family, the only person I fully trust is Sandor. I trust him with my life, because unlike a common sellsword or any other person, he can not be bought.

That's where I am now, holding court. Running the Kingdoms while I sit upon the Iron Throne. It's a rather uncomfortable feeling sitting up here. I'm not ready for this yet. I know that I'm not ready for the crown yet. I'm not what the people and the realm need. Not yet anyways. But I told my father that can deal with it for the next two months or so. So that's what I'm going to do. Although, it is easier to sit up here when Ruby is laying at my feet.

Ruby has been with me for a little over eight months. When I visited Casterly Rock sporadically, I would often find myself drawn to the bowels of the Keep. The same place that Lord Tywin kept the captured lions. I was fascinated by those creatures. They were kept in cages and at first glance, they seemed broken. But I did more than glance at them, I studied them. I spent time with them. They were fierce and ferocious. They wanted to run free; to hunt down prey. The more time I spent with them, the more they came to ignore me. As if accepting me into their lives.

I became so integrated in their lives, that I began to feed them. To care for them. The more they trusted me, well as much as a lion trusts a human. So when one of my favorite lions had cubs, I showed them extra care. I also found out just how protective a lioness is of her cubs. It is extremely terrifying to have a full grown lion roar and leap at you. She didn't want to kill me, just let me know that I will not be touching cubs. So I respected her request and kept my distance. But everyday I visited, I crept a little closer to them. Until I was able to pick one up and pet it.

It was a beautiful lion cub. Bright blues eyes watching me. A red sheen runs down her spine, different from her litter mates. She purrs in my arms as my hands pet from her head down to her tail. Her mother is watching me to see if I do something unsavory. As if I'm going to throw the cub against the wall or something. When the cub began to feel, I knew it was hungry. So I set it near its mother, who was still cautiously watching me.

Everyday of my stay at the Rock, I would visit and play with the cub. It was to the point, the lioness could care less about me visiting. I began to take more risks with the cub, taking her further away from her mother every visit. After the cub became about three months old and began to eat meat, I gave her mother a full grown stag for dinner. It was more than just dinner though, it was a distraction so I could take Ruby away without a problem. It worked. And now eight months later, Ruby lays at my feet while I am on the throne holding court.

Speaking of court, I have finished for the day. These people can give you a real headache. As I'm about to descend down the stairs, I'm stopped by Ser Barristan.

"Your Grace, there is another issue that needs your input." Now I am confused.

"Why was the problem not brought up before I dismissed the court?" The older knight has a solemn look in his eye before he speaks.

"The problem wasn't brought to your attention because the person that it concerns wished for a private audience. She is a common girl, your Grace. She didn't want to have the nobles look down on her anymore than usual." Well that I can understand.

"Very well. Show her in please." I ascend back up the stairs to the throne. As I sit down, I see the woman. Her face is hidden under a hood. Concerning, but with Barristan, Sandor, and Ruby near me; I have no fear of an attack.

"Here she is your Grace." Barristan stands in his usual position at the bottom of the stairs.

"What is it that I can do for you madam?" It is always best to be polite to people, regardless of birth.

"I do not require such an title, m'lord. I am a bar maid and nothing else." She speaks slowly and quietly. So quiet, I have to lean forward to fully hear her. "Forgive me m'lord, but I didn't know where else to go."

"Well what is the problem? I need to know so I may do my best to fix it." These are my people, so if they need help I will give them all that I can. I am waiting for the woman to speak, but her voice never comes. Instead she removes her hood, to show a battered and bruised face. Her left eye is swollen shut, along with a busted lip. Severe bruises litter her face, and I am disgusted. Not with the woman, but with what happened to her. I am not the only displeased with this, Barristan is clearly unhappy. As is Ser Arys Oakheart. Sandor looks as if this is a daily sight for him.

"What happened to you? Who did this?" I ask softly. She appears to have a great interest in her feet, as she has yet to look at me fully. When she doesn't respond to me, I stand from the throne and descend the stairs to her position. She flinches away from me when I get close. So I gently cup her chin and pull her face up to where we are looking at each other. I speak softly one more time. "Who did this?" She stares for a moment before she finally replies.

"My husband. He believed I had been unfaithful to him, so he hit me." This better be a fucking joke, because this is ridiculous. I release her chin in fear of squeezing it too tightly. I can barely contain my anger when I hear this.

"What do you want done to him?" I need to know how in love she is with this man. She stares at me for a few seconds.

"I-I want him...dead. I want him dead, m'lord." The second time she spoke was quite firm and resilient. I turn to Barristan.

"Find him and bring him to me." I turn back to the woman. "Please tell Ser Barristan what he looks like and where he could be found please." While she gives Barristan the information for the man, I look to Sandor and nod. He knows he gets to spill blood on this night. Barristan leaves with some members of the City Watch in search of this man. I turn to the woman.

"I never got you name, Madam." She looks scared, but scared about what I wonder.

"My name is Alyssa, m'lord." Rather a fitting name, it suits her really. If not for the bruises, she would be rather pretty. Luscious brown locks of hair that falls halfway down her back. I see that her right eye is a light brown color as well. It's during thia time that she speaks again. "M'lord, what happens now?"

"Well your husband will be punished and you will go on about your life, I suppose. Unless there is something else?"

"Well, he worked as a blacksmith so he brought in more coin than I did. Without him, I doubt I will survive for that long before I'm living on the streets of Flea Bottom. And a young woman doesn't last long in Flea Bottom before something bad happens to them." So she's worried about the future. That's quite understandable.

"Well you said you were a bar maid, correct?" She nods at the question. "So I take it that you can cook well?" At this she nods again. "How about you come work for me in the Keep. I would like to have you as my personal cook. The pay will be steady, and as long as you can cook, you can live in the Keep. So a job, a place to live, and you get to see my handsome face everyday. Sounds like a good deal to me." I joke, hoping to get a smile out of her. It's a small one but I'm going to count it.

"M'lord, thank you. Thank you. Thank you." She repeats her thanks many times before I call for a servant to show Alyssa to her new accommodations. As I begin to leave, the doors open to reveal Barristan and the City Watch with who I assume is Alyssa's husband. A gangly looking man. Scraggly really. Untrimmed beard, dirty hair, rags for clothing. I see him and feel like I am the one who needs a bath. They approach my little group, which consists of myself, Sandor, and Ruby.

"Your Grace, this is the man I was sent to retrieve. His name is Jeramy. And he is the one who harmed Alyssa." The man, Jeramy, is bound and gagged but is still trying to speak. Ridiculous is the word that comes to mind when I see him. I look at him and ask a simple question.

"Did you do it?" He attempts to speak through the gag again. Ruby silences him with a growl. I ask him again. "That is Ruby. She doesn't like you. A simple head shake will suffice. We will know you are lying, so answer truthfully. Did you do it?" He nods quickly, probably terrified that I will feed him to my lion. As if I would feed Ruby something as disgusting as him. "Very well then. Sandor," I turn to look at the man people call the Hound, "have fun with him. Come on, Ruby. We're going to go eat something." And we walk away. End of that problem, beginning of a new one. What should I eat for lunch today? Ahh, decisions decisions.

After lunch, Ruby falls asleep by my bed like always. While I change into a simple tunic and simple breeches and boots. I haven't walked the streets in a few weeks and now seems like a good time to do so. I check to make sure the hallway is clear so I can make my escape through the secret passageways. My passage that I usually take is a secret door in the wall of my hallway. Directly beside the table that holds roses on top of it. I push the wall, and it swings open after the click of a job well done.

At the end of the seven minute journey, I exit the passageway that comes out at an overlook of Blackwater Bay. Another three minutes and I'm working my way through the traffic of the docks. It should be easier to navigate through this than what these people are making it. I finally make it through the dock traffic and get to the Mud Gate. Once I enter the gate, I am in Fishmonger's Square. Basically the place where the ship captains and fisherman prepare for their expeditions. But this is not what I came into the city for. I came to see how my people are faring.

So as I make my trek through the city, I notice things. More criminals and cutthroats than usual. Most likely they think that with the King gone, they can do more and get away with it. Baelish's brothels are bringing in good business still. Sex really does sell. The marketplace is booming as usual. Many different people are here, buying or selling. It doesn't matter which it is. So long as it continues. Less orphans crowd the streets. Not because there are less orphans, but they actually have a home now. Orphanages have been built for them in the King's name. Not that father actually cares about them but he needs the support of the common folk.

I make my way to a bakery to buy bread and cakes. After my purchases are put into sacks, I begin to make my journey through the city. Just have one more stop before I head back to the Keep. As I walk towards my destination, my mind wanders to my family and my relationships with them. Tommen idolizes me and tries to copy me. It's adorable really. I try to set a good example for him, but it's hard to be good in a place that requires you to do less than desirable actions for some results. I try to level out my family's bad deeds with good ones though. For instance, Joffrey cuts open a pregnant cat; a orphanage opens up.

Mine and Myrcella's relationship is exactly like it has always been. Very loving. Ever since she was born, I immediately loved her with my entire heart. And that love has continued to grow to this day. I miss her a lot now that she's away in the North.

My relationship with Joffrey is not as strong as it used to be when we were younger. The cat incident really strained our relationship but what ruined was when he skinned Tommen's fawn. I prefer Tommen's company to Joffrey's. So I distanced myself from him after that. I love him but damn, he makes it so hard.

Father loves me. He told me once, after the bandit situation, that I was his favorite child. I think it's because I look like him. It's weird that I am his only true born child that looks like him. My natural born siblings all look like me so it's just an anomaly to me. He gifted me his warhammer when I turned six and ten. I suppose he was hoping I would favor it instead of the greatsword that Uncle Tyrion gave two years prior. Well I do favor it but only because I like hearing the comparisons of myself and my father from his youth. My greatsword is my go to weapon but it's nice to hear how much I resemble my father.

My mother is one of the best people I know. She loves me, that I know. Hells, she has groomed me to be the best King in the last 100 years. The only problem with her teachings is that if it isn't her way of dealing with a problem, it's the wrong way. And that's a big problem, mainly because Stannis and Tyrion both advise me and the three each have different views and opinions. She's really close to Uncle Jaime, like strangely close. But that's most likely because of the whole twin thing. It's still weird though.

Speaking of Jaime, he's really competitive with me. He always trying to turn something into a competition with me. Sometimes I don't mind it, like for a spar or something, but if I'm telling a story about a hunting trip, please don't interrupt me just to say you killed a bigger boar than me. He's so cocky because of his skill with a blade, it's ridiculous. I try to stay away from him for the most part.

Renly still dislikes me, but not as much now. So that's a start I suppose. I don't even think he's been to Dragonstone more than twice since it became his. If he's not in the capital, he's in Highgarden. And if the rumors are true, it's because of Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of the Flowers. Loras and Garlan are good tournament competition, but I prefer Willas' conversation over the rest. I met Willas at my six and ten nameday celebration. He was the only Tyrell invited. He was not the only Tyrell to show up though.

Tyrion. Our relationship is so great. He is my best friend, my advisor, my business partner. We have a small shipping company together. Nobody knows about it though. Well except for Varys, of course. And what Lord Tywin doesn't know is that that 50,000 gold dragons loan I got from here years ago, and paid back fully, was what started the company. With the gold, we bought three ships and enough merchandise that we could ship it over to Essos and sell the merchandise to make a profit. A huge profit, I might add. For every gold piece we invested, we got three back. Uncle Tyrion is absolutely amazing when it comes to business. It really is a shame that Tywin could never see that. But it doesn't matter, I love Uncle Tyrion.

Uncle Stannis is my favorite uncle. He is my mentor. He taught me what it is like to be a man. I wouldn't trade my time on Dragonstone with him for anything else. It was extremely eye opening to see the world from his point of view. Plus as a bonus, I got to play with Shireen. Who is the sweetest person in the world. Which is ironic since Stannis, well, he isn't that sweet. But I take great pride in the fact that I made Stannis smile. Well me and Shireen did. We knew that his favorite thing about Dragonstone was the Painted Table, so me and Shireen, with some help, crafted an exact replica of it. Hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life. And that includes getting into a tugging match with a full grown lioness.

I'm broken out of my musings as I realize that I have reached my destination. Once I enter the establishment, I am almost immediately pounced on.

"Uncle Draedon, did you bring food?" One of the little minions say.

"I hope there is cake." Another says. This is what I get. No, 'how are you doing?' Or, 'you look nice today.' Nothing in that manner. They're so lucky they're adorable.

"Yes, I come bearing food. Bread and cakes. Take it over to the table and share with each other." I hand the sack over to one of the children and they take over to the table like I told them to. I look down to my legs to see one little girl who hasn't released me yet. I bend down and pick her up so that she can sit in my lap. She is one of my favorite orphans, her name is Cerenna. Blonde hair and green eyes, quite possibly a Lannister. She is wearing the biggest smile possible. The smiles on their faces when they see me is amazing. I don't think they recognize me, so for that I'm thankful. At least the children do not recognize me, I believe the caretakers know me. They just don't say anything luckily.

"I'm sorry I can't stay long today Cerenna. But I have some things to do." She looks sad, but her smile never leaves her face.

"Can I come with you?" She pushes her bottom lip out in a pout. Absolutely adorable and almost impossible to resist. Almost.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, but not today. But before you get sad, I brought you a special cake." I pull a specially wrapped cake out of a pouch. It's chocolate. Her favorite. "Here you go, sweetie. Enjoy it and I will see you next time." She has stopped listening, more intent on devouring the cake in her hands. So I pat her head and head towards the door. As I am about to leave, I pull some gold out of my pocket and drop them in the caretaker's hand. She smiles warmly at me and I nod in return.

I need to make it back to the Keep quickly now. I've spent too much time away from it. So I begin to walk briskly through the streets on my way back to the docks. When I make it there, I head for the entrance of the passageway. I make it there and head through it. I make it through and make it all the way back to my room, where Ruby is still sleeping peacefully. The only time she really moves is when she hunts, other than that she is pretty lazy. I replace my dirty tunic with a thin wool jerkin, blue in color. As I am buttoning it, a knock comes from the door.

"Enter." I tell them. When the door opens, I expect it to be somebody other than him.

"How was your walk, your Grace? Did you enjoy the time with the orphans?" Varys speaks in his sugary voice. I hate that he knows everything but at the same time I'm happy that he does. Or else he would not be a good Master of Whispers.

"It was quite pleasant actually. A bit more crowded than I anticipated but I wouldn't change it. As for the orphans, they are always a welcome sight." I rather like Varys. He can hold a good conversation.

"I know what you mean, your Grace. I rather like the little birds as well. But alas, I did not come here to speak of the orphanage you visited. There is two other matters in fact, that I wish to discuss." And now the fun part begins.

"Give me the bad news first then." Let's get this conversation over with then.

"A wedding should never be considered bad news, your Grace." Cryptic as per our usual back and forth conversations are.

"Who is getting married Lord Varys?" I am genuinely curious about it.

"Daenerys Targaryen is, your Grace. To a Dothraki Warlord by the name of Khal Drogo." Father will be displeased at that. He will most likely try to send his army to kill them.

"So Viserys finally sold her, and for a Dothraki army no less. A bit of a stupid plan, the Dothraki don't sail." I mean if you going to get an army, get one that will actually follow you.

"Well whether they sail or not is still a question my little birds have yet to answer for me. In other news, your family is returning South with a new Hand. You wished to be informed when they began their journey home. Well they began it almost three days ago, your Grace." He said in that sickly sweet voice of his. I have always found it ironic that a eunuch is one of the most powerful people in all the Kingdoms. Because as a powerful person, your only goal is to be powerful and to set your family up high after you die. He can not do that. Shame really.

"Three days ago and you're only now bringing me this news? Perhaps your little birds are not as fast as I believed them to be." I say with a smirk. That smile still plastered on his face.

"I believe that they move slowly through the snow, your Grace. Most have short legs." I laugh as his jest. It's not often that that I speak to someone, other than Uncle Tyrion, that can make me laugh.

"Well thank you for news about my family. I shall ride up to meet them some of the way." He bows before walking to the door. He stops before he opens it and turns towards me once more.

"One other thing, Your Grace. Sandor Clegane wishes to come to the Interrogation room to speak to the prisoner with him." I chuckle at that. It's not everyday that Sandor gets a new toy. Toy perhaps is a bad choice of words when speaking of Sandor.

"Oh, well thank you Lord Varys." He bows once more and leaves. I sigh. A Prince's work is never done.

* * *

 _Sansa POV_

"He doesn't mean Lady, does he?" I look to father who looked back solemnly. "No, not Lady, Lady didn't bite anybody, she's good..."

"Lady wasn't there," Arya shouted angrily. "You leave her alone!"

"It wasn't Lady, it was Nymeria, Arya did it. Please don't hurt Lady." I plead with them. "I'll make her be good, I promise. I promise." I begin to cry. Father takes me into his arms and holds me while I weep. Father speaks across the room to the King.

"Please, Robert. For the love you bear me. For the love you bear my sister. Please." The King looked at us for a long moment, then turned his eyes on to the Queen.

"Damn you, Cersei." He spoke with such loathing, I didn't even know it was possible. Father gently disengaged himself from my hold.

"Do it yourself then, Robert. At least have the courage to do it yourself." He spoke with a voice as cold and sharp as steel. The King looked at father with dead eyes and turned to leave without a word. As he turned, he stopped moving and was lifted off the ground. Who or what could pick the King off the ground and carry him around? A horribly scarred man stands in the doorway. I have never seen him, but I have heard the stories about him. The Hound is his name, he is the sworn shield of the Crown Prince. But that would mean that the Crown Prince is close to him, and the only other new person to enter the room is the man carrying the King back to the chair he just abandoned.

The man sets the King down in the chair and stands at his full height. He is easily six and a half foot. The only person taller than him is the Hound himself. The Prince has long black hair, down to his shoulder blades. It looks soft, I want to run my hands through it to find out for myself. But it is his eyes that draws my attention. They are a deep blue, unlike his father's stormy blue. They look like pools of sapphire. I could get lost in those mesmerizing orbs. They are brought out even more by his light blue doublet that is studded with a double row of thick gold silk.

He is muscular, I can see that even with the cloak he has on. Not overly so, but just enough that if he wrapped you in his arms that you would feel safe and secure. High cheekbones with full lips, he is different from his brother. Draedon is handsome like a warrior or a Prince should be, while Joffrey is pretty. Seeing them stand close together, it's hard not to compare the two with each other.

Draedon has a big smile plastered on his face, even his teeth is as white as snow. He turns to face me and my family. When he sees me, he walks over to me. He reaches up and cups my cheek. He wipes a tear that has fallen. He speaks with he most husky voice I may have ever heard before.

"Pretty ladies should never cry." He lowers his hand from my face. I miss the heat that his hand had, but a new heat hits my face. I'm blushing, most likely as bright as my hair. I want to look away but I don't want to lose sight of his eyes. He looks away first and I miss his eyes.

"So I was just told some very... Interesting news about my dear little brother." He looks towards Joffrey who is looking at the floor in front of him. Blood rising to his face. "From what I hear, Joffrey was disarmed by a little girl." Draedon turns to look at Arya, who is also beginning to blush from all the eyes being on her. "A very little girl by the looks of it." He has a smirk on his face now.

"I'm not little." Arya says defiantly, sometimes I just wish she would be quiet and act like a lady should. Draedon laughs, a light airy sort of laugh.

"My apologies, please do not go grab a club." His smirk widens. Arya smiles full on, even father cracks a smirk. "But now I'm curious as to why you wish to kill an innocent animal who has done nothing. Or why you want to kill either wolf for that matter."

"That beast attacked your brother." The Queen replies coolly.

"Because he drew a sword on its master. Ruby would have ripped his throat out if he pulled a sword on me, so he should feel lucky." Who is Ruby, I wonder. "So the wolves will not die."

"Actually, my Prince, there is only one dire wolf. We can't find the other one." One of the Kingsguard say. I recognize him to be Ser Meryn Trant. One of the three Kingsguard to come to Winterfell with the King.

"Actually, there are two. Me and Sandor found the other on our way up here. It's rather a terrifying creature to run across during a dark night in the woods, in case anybody was curious." The Crown Prince says with a chuckle soon following. "So they are not to be harmed or I will blame Joffrey. If an arrow pierces one of them, I'm going to blame Joffrey. If a rainstorm happens and lightning strikes one, I'm going to blame Joffrey. If the Warrior himself descends down from the skies above and strikes them down, I'm going to blane Joffrey. And you will not like the way that I handle it."

"That beast scarred your brother and you defend it." The Queen is beginning to become heated.

"Men should have scars. There is only two kinds of men without scars; Gods and cowards. And Joffrey is damn sure not a God." The hall is deathly silent until the Crown Prince speaks once more. "Sandor, stand guard over the wolves tonight. If anyone in Lannister colors comes close to you or the wolves, cut them down." The man called the Hound nods and walks away. "I believe that's the end of the discussion for tonight, you all may go to sleep now." The room disperses slowly but steadily. Arya runs to the Crown Prince and hugs him tightly around his body. Repeating her thanks to him. I wish I was in her position but I'm a lady so I won't act like that.

"Thank you, my Prince, for your help and support. I mean it, thank you." My father states as he extends his hand to the Crown Prince. Draedon immediately accepts it.

"It's my duty as a Prince to protect the innocent and to defend the weak. This seemed like the best way to handle this situation. So no thanks necessary, my Lord. And feel free to come to me with any questions for the capital. I will be happy to help. But alas, I must speak to my family, so have a nice night Stark family." He smiles and walks over to the Queen and Joffrey. Father ushers me and Arya outside and to our rooms. But before we leave, I turn to look at the Crown Prince and we make eye contact. He smiles and looks away. I believe that my betrothal may be to the wrong Prince.

 _Cersei POV_

When I first saw that it was Draedon who entered, I was ecstatic to see my son after so long away from him. But now at the end of the conversation, I don't know how to feel. Happy that my son is standing before and angry at the same time for choosing those people over his own family. Robert is happy. Laughing and hugging Draedon while Joffrey and I stay off to the side. Their conversation ends and Robert leaves. The Kingsguard follows and now only three people are in this room. He gracefully walks over to us.

"Mother, you as beautiful as-" Joffrey cuts him off.

"How could you make me look like such a fool!" Joffrey is furious. It's not a secret as to why he is.

"You make yourself look like a fool all by yourself brother. Letting a little girl disarm you. Letting a butcher's boy get the best of you. You need no help making you look like a halfwit." Joffrey is embarrassed, I can tell by the blush on his face. "Instead of questioning what I just did, you should be thanking me."

"Thanking you? Thanking you for what?" Joffrey is genuinely confused, it's written across his face. I'm curious as well.

"Firstly, for stopping that war that just could have happened. If you start something with the Starks, you wouldn't be the one to end it. Father won't go to war with Stark for you. It was proven today that you are no threat with a blade, so you won't go to war. Stannis and Renly dislike you, so they don't go. That leaves me, Jaime, and grandfather to go. And I am not going to go to war with my future bannerman just because you are a fucking idiot. And secondly, the Starks think of me as their savior. They trust me, they will tell me secrets and come to me for advice. You need to wisen up and quickly. And get over your fucking obsession with causing harm to animals. You're a fucking Prince, so act like one." And with that, Draedon left. But only after he kissed my cheek and said his good byes. I don't think I have ever been more proud with Draedon than right at this moment. He didn't choose Stark over family, he just knows the game. Joffrey could learn something from him.

I spend the next hour calming Joffrey down. He finally calms down and falls to sleep. Myrcella's will be upset that she was not awoken to see Draedon but I'll deal with her in the morning. Same with Tommen. I lay down and allow sleep to claim me. My last thought is of my family, happy and loving.


	3. A Day In The Life

**_A/N: Sorry about the wait, but I'm still dealing with the aftermath of Hurricane Matthew. So again, apologies._**

* * *

 ** _Draedon POV_**

Today is the day of the Hand's Tourney. Knights and noble families have traveled from their homes in order to compete or see this expensive display of violence. I can see some families from the Riverlands, the Reach, and the Westerlands. Some Northerners, but not many. Some Knights of the Vale made the way to the capital. No Martells again. That has to change in the future.

Even Gregor Clegane has made the trip from his keep. There are only two times anybody sees him outside of his keep; tournaments and war. That doesn't have to change anytime soon. I have absolutely despised that man ever since Sandor told me how he got his scars. What kind of person can do that to somebody else, let alone their little brother? Sandor wants to kill him, as does the entirety of Dorne, so who gets to do it? Dorne would most likely come back into the fold if they were given the Mountain. But Sandor has loyally stayed by my side for years. Oh, what a tough decision.

The last tournament I was excited for was a squire tournament I competed in when I was only four and ten. My first tourney. It was a phenomenal experience that I wouldn't change for anything. I won it but just barely. I was lucky enough to have been born with my father's strength or else I would not have been able to hold on to my horse once I got hit. Father wanted to knight me after that but I declined, stating that I was much too young for such an honor. That was not why I declined it though. The real reason is because I remember seeing Sandor look at me and I just couldn't become what he hates. It helped my decision when I remembered that 'knights' have went really down hill as of late.

In the pavilion, father sits to the left of me with mother to the left of him. Joffrey is sitting to the left of her with Tommen by him. Myrcella sits to the right of me, like it has always been. She looks like an exact copy of mother, wearing a green gown to bring out her emerald eyes. Mother is in a crimson and gold dress, that way no one forgets that she is a Lannister. They really are a sight to behold.

The new Hand, Lord Stark, sits with his daughters and other nobles. I can see Lord Baelish sitting behind them. Most likely attempting to sway one of them. Sansa seems the most likely victim; a naïve little girl. Tis a shame really. She seemed quite kind. Arya, on the other hand, less lady-like and more knight like. A tiny inexperienced knight, but a knight none the less. Lord Stark himself is still a bit difficult to read. His loyalty lies with father, I may need him when I ascend to the throne. I hope the direwolf incident helps with that.

I turn my attention back to assembled knights...and Sandor. I can see Renly among them. He's the representative of the Baratheon family, oh how lucky we are. Ser Hugh of the Vale is also out there. Nice armor for a recently turned knight, did Arryn leave him some gold? It would not surprise me.

I can see the Mallister sigil being shown proudly. The weasel looking Freys are also here. I count six of them, I swear that family reproduces like rats. All members of the Kingsguard are also out there. Jaime is the only one that is not wearing white scaled armor. Instead, his armor is gold, an extremely shiny gold color. With the White Cloak blowing in the breeze. I am hoping Sandor or Ser Barristan puts him down. Hard. Mother always says that you should never bet against family, but Sandor is my family. He is like an older brother to me. I love him more than either Jaime or Renly so I will never bet against him.

"Why aren't they hitting each other?" Joffrey so eloquently asks. I wonder if he will ever compete in one of these tourneys. I highly doubt it, but it would be extremely entertaining to watch.

"Because the King has yet to start it. Why is that father?" Father puts his goblet of wine down long enough to stand up and announce the start it.

The first match is one of the Freys and Lord Stark's guard captain, Jory I believe his name is. The Frey loses to the Northerner, and there is still five of those bastards left.

"He wears rather plain armor. The Northerner." Myrcella says, looking at the man she speaks of. It is true what she says. He wears just blue-grey plate without ornament, with a thin grey cloak that hangs from his shoulders like a soiled rag.

"Armor doesn't need to be pretty, it just has to able to protect you." I say to her. She turns to look at me.

"You have pretty armor." She has a small smirk plastered on her face. It just brightens up her already beautiful face.

"I said it doesn't need to be pretty, not that it can't be." Her smirk grows as she turns back to the action. Barristan just won his match against a man thirty years his junior.

And so we watched the action, as it took all day for it to end for everyone except four men. Sandor looked unstoppable today. As well as Gregor, but that is too be expected. He even killed a man today. Ser Hugh of the Vale, to be exact. He never stood a chance against a monster like that. I can remember meeting him when Jon took him as a squire, I actually liked the boy. A friend, I would call him a friend. A friend who died today.

Uncle Jaime only had one decent match, it was against Barristan. It was hard fought and it was arguably the best match all day. And then there is Loras Tyrell, the Knight of the Fucking Flowers. I really dislike that boy. He dislikes me also though. I might be because I only invited Willas to my nameday celebration. It's either that or it might be his close relationship with Renly.

Once the commons left for their homes, father ordered everybody to the riverside for the feast. Six aurochs have been roasting for hours on wooden spits over the fire. There will be many courses tonight. I can already see strawberries and fresh baked bread laying upon the tables. But, I would bet that all father sees is the iced summerwine. I will not worry myself about him tonight though. Tonight is going to be a good night for celebration. A celebration of what, I do not know. I will be celebrating Sandor and his amazing riding skills. I shall relax and feast. Sometimes, it is nice to be a Prince.

* * *

 ** _Cersei POV_**

"What do you mean you are cancelling Joffrey's betrothal just to force Tommen into one?" I spit out at my 'husband'. He doesn't back down though.

"Ned doesn't feel like Joffrey is the best marriage prospect for his daughter. I still wished for an alliance between our families, and Draedon did not want to marry Sansa, so Ned and I came to an agreement. Tommen will marry Arya when they are both of age." He nonchalantly says back to me, before he raises his goblet for another drink.

"Tommen is but a boy. He is not ready for a wife." I can not allow this to happen to my youngest cub.

"Are you deaf, woman? I repeat; they will not marry until they are both of age. If you against this contract, that's fine. Myrcella can be shipped to Winterfell to marry Brandon, if that is what you want." He has the fucking nerve to say such a thing, to me of all people?

"The cripple? As if I would allow such an atrocity to be made against my children." This poor excuse of a man is sealing his fate with this deal.

"They are my children as well, in case you have forgotten." I keep the smirk off of my face.

"No, they are not. I raised them. I held them when they cried. I read to them. You have did absolutely nothing to call them your children. As a matter of fact, Draedon is the only one you even showed a small interest in." I hurt him. I can see it in his eyes.

"Draedon has always been my favorite. My first born son. My heir. Hells, he's the only one that even looks like me."

"Maybe your genes are as weak as your words." My eyes widen, just a little bit. I should not have said that. He might figure it out now.

"Well listen to my weak words, woman; Tommen will marry Arya. End of discussion. Ned is telling Joffrey the decision right now as we speak."

"You didn't even have the courage to tell Joff yourself?" I can not even believe what I am hearing. My precious son is not worthy of his whore daughter?

"Ned felt the need to do it himself. So he and his daughter have sat down to talk to Joffrey in private. Do not worry about it though. Barristan is with him, as is Renly." At least he has some support then. Wait, what?

"Why is Renly with them? If any uncle should be with them, it should be Jaime." I really dislike this entire situation.

"Renly is relaying a message to Joffrey from the Tyrells. And before you say anything else about the situation, I do not know why Renly did not wait until later to give Joffrey the message and Joffrey is almost a man grown. He needs to start making his own decisions and handling political situations, so I allowed him to do this himself." The Tyrells? Those up jump ambitious stewards? With a harlot for a daughter? Oh, no.

"They will ask Joff to marry that daughter of their's. Renly will pretty up the option for him and confuse him into accepting it."

"The boy needs to be coddled less and grow up away from your over bearing arms. Leave him be. Actually, you're giving me a headache so you can leave. Now." He fills his goblet with more Arbor Red and I can't stand to be in his presence anymore. I leave his solar and head to my room.

I need Joffrey to not make a rash decision about any of this. I hope he doesn't do something stupid, like accepting to marry that Tyrell girl.

As I near my room, some of that conversation hits me. Draedon refused the Stark girl's hand and the Tyrell harlot is vying for Joffrey. That doesn't leave a lot of options for Draedon's future Queen. I should speak with him about that, and what better time than the present.

So I immediately turn in the direction of my eldest son's room and begin to walk. As I'm walking, I think of the options for him. The Tyrell girl and the Stark girl, obviously, but other than that, there is not too many others. Arianne Martell is a choice, as long as he can pull Dorne back into the fold. Robert would never allow the Targaryen girl to marry him, and for good reason. Maybe I can pull some Lannister cousins to meet him. To have a strong Lannister woman by his side during his reign just feels right some how.

I make it to his door and knock promptly. No answer. I knock a second time. Again, no answer. I open his door enough to peek inside. I spy my dark haired lion sprawled across his bed, fast asleep. His lion laying out on the balcony, bathing in the sunlight. I enter his room and his lion looks up at me and stares for a second before it lays its head back down. I wish he would get rid of that beast. I am afraid it will eat him one of these days.

I cross his room to his bed. As I look down upon his sleeping form, I realize he looks extremely peaceful. Not a care in the world at the moment. It is nice to see that look on him. I should just leave and allow him to sleep. I turn to leave only to look at his bedside table. Sealed letters with the crowned stag wax on them. He hasn't sent them yet. Perhaps, I could take one and see who he speaks to and what they speak about. I pick one of the letters up and turn to leave again. As I turn, the letter smacks a cup of water off of the table. Once the cup hits the ground, I immediately drop the letter into the spilled water. Draedon wakes from the noise.

"What in the seven hells, mother?" He is still groggy, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"I was coming to speak to you, but once I was close enough to wake you, your beast growled at me and accidentally hit the cup. And well, here we are. Sorry for the abrupt wake up, Drae." I lie convincingly, I hope he believes me. It helps the lie that the lion is now staring at us. Draedon looks to me and then to the lion.

"Oh, well that's understandable. She can be frightening to some people." He stands from the bed and picks the letter up and sets it back on the table. He crosses the room and picks up a tunic to cover his naked top. I notice something odd.

"Where your dog? Shouldn't he be guarding your door while you sleep?" If that scarred freak left to go to a brothel, I will have him strung up by his toes. Draedon groggily grunts, still asleep. His deep blue eyes turn to mine.

"Well if you must know, he is running an errand for me. So do not get angry with him." His dark hair lightly blows from a gentle breeze from his open balcony doors. "What is it that you came to speak with about, mother? Gods, you're not pregnant again, are you?" He raises an eyebrow and I raise mine to match his.

"Why would I have another child when I have four beautiful, perfect cubs already?" He smirks at me.

"Well I wouldn't hate the idea of another Myrcella running around here." I smile warmly at that. I am so glad that they so close with each other.

"Well speak to another if you wish for another child to run around here. Or you could get married and have your own." Let's go ahead and spin the conversation into that direction.

"Ugh, please don't tell me you woke me for a marriage talk." Who figures it out that fast. He walks over to his table and pours two cups of water. He offers me a chair, which I cheerfully sit on.

"Well I've been speaking about marriage all day, might as well speak about it with you." He cocks another eyebrow.

"Whose marriage have you spoken of today? Surely not mine, as I don't have one yet." He pauses for a moment. "I still don't have a marriage, right?" I see...worry in eyes. Aww, he is just precious.

"No, you still don't have one. So calm down, sweetling. Actually I've been speaking about Joff's."

"To the Stark girl? Sansa, I do believe is her name. Nice girl." He now has a thoughtful look upon his chiseled face.

"Actually, the marriage is off." He is shocked and confused, as well. So I should enlighten him about the situation. "Lord Stark doesn't think Joffrey is good enough for his lovely daughter. But Robert wishes for the alliance to continue, so instead, Tommen will marry the other one, Arya." He throws his head back and laughs. A cheerful, boisterous laugh.

"Well Jaime better start teaching Tommen the way of the sword. He will have to beat that girl with a sword just to stab her with his." I shake my head and smack his arm. He playfully rubs the spot I hit. "But seriously, Joffrey will not like this. He will see it as disrespect towards him and he will react to it." On that we can both agree.

"Barristan and Renly are both with him so maybe he will control himself." I try to remain hopeful until he turns his sapphire glare on me.

"Do you really believe that, mother? Do you really believe that your most self entitled, pompous, selfish, arrogant child won't do something rash when he feels disrespected?" He makes a valid point. I sigh heavily.

"You shouldn't speak about your brother that way, it might send the wrong idea." He chuckles lightly at my statement.

"Aside from you, I love Joffrey more than anybody else. All I want is to see him succeed in life, but that doesn't make me blind to his faults. What I said is true about him and I will stand by my statement." Stubborn boy, just like his mother.

"I am not blind to his faults either, I just-" he cuts me off quickly.

"You just don't want to admit them so obviously. You have never allowed him to take responsibility for his actions. Need I remind you about Tommen's fawn?" Here we go with the damn fawn again. " 'a fawn is not a pet.' I remember you saying about the situation. Well guess what mother, a lion is not a pet yet here," he gestures towards the balcony, "my pet lion lays. I had to get Tommen a new pet just for him to stop crying. I wiped his tears while you held Joffrey's hand and whispered sweet nothings into his ear. You made him the way he is today, mother." He knows how to hit you where it hurts. "And I love you for it." That's what- wait what did he say?

"You...love me for it? For the way I raised Joffrey?" He nods once.

"Like I said, I love Joffrey more than anybody else. I hate how he is most of the time, but I wouldn't change him. Joffrey is who is he. And who he is, is you." I stare at him rather expectantly. "Well he is all of your bad traits and none of your good ones. He is not cunning like you nor is he intelligent. He is cruel and selfish and entitled, and I love him for it. For he is exactly the opposite of Myrcella and Tommen. And the balance he brings to my life is needed. He made me become who I am today. But don't get me wrong, sometimes I wish I were the selfish one that doesn't care about their actions. But at the same time, I am glad I am the person my siblings run to when they have a nightmare and need to be told that they are safe and will always be protected. Without Joffrey being Joffrey, I would have became a different man. And I don't think I would have liked who I was." I am taken aback. I never knew that was how he felt about Joffrey.

"But you should be proud of the children you raised. Myrcella and Tommen are the kindest, most caring children anybody will ever meet. And Joffrey is arguably the most selfish and cruel child ever. But his personality is needed in the world, in order to bring balance." His ocean orbs are fully alert now, as he kindly smiles at me.

"And where, pray tell, do you fall on that scale?" I need to know how my cub thinks of himself.

"Personally, I believe I am the perfect mix of the two extremes. Kind and caring until I need to be sadistic. I am just afraid that if I allow my sadistic side out more, it will take me over. And that frightens me." He has a look of stress and worry on his face. I close the distance between us and hug him tightly, he responds with an even tighter grip.

We talk for a few more minutes before I leave. As I close the door to his room, I realize that we didn't even talk about the main why I woke him to begin with. Well, I suppose there is always the future.

* * *

 ** _Sandor POV_**

That fucking errand was horrible, but it is done. He better be happy with the results. If he isn't, well that's going to be too bad. It took me all day to finally finish it. It took me even longer to figure everything out about it. Days to get all of the information. He will be happy, or else I will be pissed. As I find the Prince's room, I knock lightly. I can hear movement inside.

"Come in." The Prince yells. I open the door to see him peering at me from his spot at the table. Ruby laying by his feet eating some sort of meat. Chicken most likely, it seems to be her favorite. I am comfortable being around it now but I still don't like being alone with it. While Draedon will use it as a pillow. It's a strange situation. "Well, is it done Sandor?" He looks a bit eager for the answer. I smirk.

"You should know by now not to doubt me. It is done, my Prince." He laughs faintly but smiles fully. He stands to his full height, just a few inches shorter than myself. Ruby stands as well and stretches her furry limbs.

"Well, let's go. Lead the way." I nod as he falls in by my side. Ruby lazily walking behind him as she follows as well. We walk all the way to the staircase that leads to the black cells. We grab torches and begin our descent into the dark damp place.

We make it to the required floor and the only things that can be seen is what our torches have lit, which isn't much. Ruby is quite fine about this, as she trots ahead of the Prince and myself. The light sends rats scurrying for their hiding spots. As we walk, Ruby makes her presence known with a ferocious growl. A scream pierces the silence directly after. The Prince turns to face me, his sapphire eyes glowing in light of the torches. We continue on our path until the lion begins to show Ruby and her possible victim.

He is a rather scrawny runt of a man, not even reaching my chest at his full height. Luckily, or unluckily for him, the way he is chained up with his arms in the air, he is almost eye level to me. His hair is filthy with dirt and dried blood. He may have been a little less than cooperative when I came for him. That can be expected though. He looks like he barely weighs 140 pounds. Life has not been easy for him.

And it is about to take another downhill tumble.

"So you must be the man with the love of fire." The man doesn't speak. "I would rather you told me what I would like to know, but I can't force you to." Again, the man stays silent. "The man I am looking for has been setting fires across Flea Bottom. At first they were harmless fires in the dead of night, but lately he has been getting bolder. Setting fires to houses instead of booths and shops. And with this last fire, a dozen people burned to death. Three of which were children less than ten years of age. So I will ask you one time and one time only; did you set those fires?" The man looks at Draedon and stares into his eyes for a second before cowering.

"Yes." The ragged man mumbles. So quiet we can barely hear him. But we still heard him. The Prince looks at the man before he turns to me.

"Sandor grab one of his legs and hold it so he doesn't kick me." I do as I am bid. The man is resistant but I am stronger than he is. The Prince grabs the man's free leg in one arm and secures it so he can't pull away.

Draedon begins to lower the torch slowly to the bottom of the man's foot. The man understands what is about to happen begins to jerk and twist his body in hopes of getting free. He is unsuccessful and the fear is clear in his eyes. Hells, it is plastered across his face. The torch finally makes it to the foot and the flesh begins to sear and melt away. The smell of burning flesh brings back memories, as does the man's screams. Once the Prince thinks it's enough, he releases the leg, as do I.

Draedon sets the torch on the wall stand and walks to the man, only to hit him in his open body. I can hear a rib crack. A second hit and while nothing cracked this time, the pain is still easily detectable. A third hit to the ribs and the sound of a bone breaking is heard once again. Draedon directs his fists toward the man's face this time and strikes the man's jaw with a powerful blow. The Prince reels back for another blow that ultimately connects and breaks his nose. If I were a lesser man, I might turn away. But luckily I'm not. I've done much worse before.

After he releases some more of his anger, the Prince finally backs away. His back hits the wall before he stops walking backwards. He looks up to see his handiwork, only to slide down the wall into a sitting position. I believe he didn't realize what he was doing until it was too late. The man is alive, although I think he wishes he wasn't. His face is a bloody mess and he is breathing rather raggedly. I almost feel bad for the poor fire starter. Almost. But Draedon is a different story. I rush to his side. He looks up at me with fearful eyes.

"My Prince, why don't you go back to your room for rest? I will finish up here." I help him stand and he nods sullenly. He grabs the torch off the wall and begins his trek back to his room. As he walks back to the staircase, he turns back for one more look at his prisoner. His face falls once again. He turns and leaves with Ruby following closely behind him. Rubbing his leg in support.

I turn back to the bloody bastard.

"Well if it isn't your lucky day..."

* * *

 ** _Alyssa POV_**

I make my way to my Prince's room with his dinner in hand. Leg of lamb, a dish of peas and onions, and fresh baked bread with butter. I never cooked lamb before I got this job. But I need a way to thank the Prince for his generosity and kindness. He gave me protection and a home when he could have done nothing. And for that, I am forever grateful to him.

Since taking the job, my face has healed. It is longer bruised and battered but rather back to its healthy state of being. No more swollen eye. No busted lips. Just the way I like my looks to be. Even my hair has grown almost two inches since then. I don't know if I should cut it or not. I am broken out of my thoughts as I approached Prince's room.

I knock as I stand on the outside of his door. I don't have to wait too long before it opens and the Prince appears. He is dishevelled at best. His normally cheerful blue eyes are no longer cheerful, but are more grim. He puts a fake smile on when he sees who I am.

"Oh, hello Alyssa. Dinner time already? I must have lost track of time. Please, come in." He opens the door wider for me to enter. And I do. I walk to the table in his room and set the dishes down upon it. I notice his gigantic lion laying out on the balcony, enjoying the cool night air. I then turn to him.

"M'lord, is something wrong? You don't seem yourself today." He closes the door and begins to walk to me. I hope that that wasn't too blunt for him. I would hate to mess up what he has given me. A life.

"No, I am just fine. I really appreciate the food, but i would have come down sooner or later to grab something." He attempts to change the subject rather abruptly.

"M'lord, I know something is wrong. You helped me in my time of need, please allow me to help you in yours." I plead with him. I can't allow this wonderful man to feel bad about something if I can help.

"Hmph, is it that obvious?" I nod my head once. He sighs heavily. "I just don't want to turn into my father." His sad eyes connect with mine.

"What do you mean, m'lord?" He sighs once again.

"Before he ascended to the throne, he was an amazing warrior, a man of honor even. But somewhere along his reign, he stopped caring about everything that wasn't wine, food, or whores. And I don't want that. I want to remain who I am, but I don't know if I can." The last part was barely above a whisper. He now stands with his vision directed to the floor. I cup his chin and bring his eyes to meet mine.

"You will never become like that. You are a kind, caring, sweet person with honor. And I feel as if I can see the future, for I know that you will never stop being that person." I release his chin and smile gently at him. He smiles back.

"Really?" He is like an innocent child sometimes.

"Really, m'lord." He raises his hand to cup my cheek. And instead of flinching away, I close my eyes and move closer into his touch. He is so warm, almost as if he has heat of a summer day in the palm of his hand. His thumb strokes my cheek, as he rubs circles with it. It is at this moment that my eyes open and meet his. Chocolate meets sapphire, and I am in a trance. I lean forward instinctively, but so does he.

Our lips touch. Lightly at first, but after a few seconds, lightly becomes hungrily. He runs his fingers through my hair as I pull him as close possible. As his hands reach for the ties of my dress, I can feel my heart thumping against my ribs. He only part for one reason; lack of air. I gulp the air down greedily as he does the same.

Just as he turns me towards his bed, a knock sounds at the door. The Prince growls in frustration.

"Who is it?" He calls out, not taking his lust filled eyes off of me.

"It is Barristan, your Grace. There is urgent news." Barristan opens the door, only to spot us standing by the bed, breathing heavily. He lowers his head, most likely in embarrassment. I can't blame him.

"Ser Barristan, please tell me this can wait." The Prince is begging the older knight.

"No, my Prince. It can't. It has to do with your brother." The older man still has his head bowed.

"You can look up Ser Barristan, there was nothing bad going on." The Knight finally looks up, with a sorrowful look upon his face. The Prince fills a goblet with water. "So what has Joffrey done now? Kill another cat?" The Prince raises his goblet.

"No, your Grace. Prince Joffrey is dead." The Prince's goblet drops from his hand, water spills everywhere.


	4. Heavy-hearted

**A/N: Sorry, for the late update, but lack of inspiration is killing me.**

* * *

 _ **Cersei POV**_

The procession stops at the base of the steps that lead to the Great Sept of Baelor. Joffrey's funeral viewing is being held today. Today will not be a good day to me or my family. No mother should have to bury her child. Jaime opens the door for me, as he is my Kingsguard escort.

I exit my litter just to see the sides of the stairs to be lined with people. They have come from all parts of the Seven Kingdoms. They have all come to pay their respect. Oh, how I loathe their faces full of pity. Their eyes never leave me. It's not surprising though, as I am the first royal family member to show. Now I must stand here and wait for the rest of my family, and Robert, to join me at the base of steps.

The next member of my family to show up is Myrcella, followed immediately by Tommen. They each have a Kingsguard member protecting them; Cella has Meryn Trant, while Tommen has Arys Oakheart. They are both in black, like myself and everyone else included. The both of them have puffy red eyes, but I believe they are sad over the fact that Draedon is upset more than Joffrey's death.

My eldest cub has been extremely heartbroken over it. He has been absent and impossible to find for the last week. He blames himself for Joff's death. Those damned wolves payed for what they did. I now sleep with their furs on my bed. My only wish was that the Stark girls didn't get punished for their idiocy. But Robert was adamant to keep his bond with Stark close, so no Stark so much as got yelled at. Except by me and Draedon.

Robert is finally seen riding atop a stallion, poor creature. He is also dressed in black, aside from his golden crown. The rest of the Kingsguard follow him. Barristan appears to have a crestfallen facial appearance. Excellent, he should feel horrible. He failed in his duty of protecting the Prince. I wanted to have him executed but Robert wouldn't allow it.

Robert dismounts from the horse with help from two young squires. Both of which are my cousins, Lancel and Tyrek. I had to fight him for them to become his squires. He was completely against, as he likes to say, "there are already too many Lannisters here." Well he is not wrong. I needed to have men loyal to me and my family in case something happened. Robert approaches me and the children before he spots something amiss.

"Where is Draedon?" He asks to nobody in particular. Everybody shrugs or just doesn't answer. That is until Tommen points something out to us all.

"Well Sandor is here." He points to the top of the stairs and sure enough, Draedon's dog is standing there stoically.

"Well that means that he is already here then." Myrcella says excitedly. Her voice not showing a hint of sadness. How shocking. We make our way up to the top of the stairs and before we pass, the High Septon stops us.

"Your Grace, I should warn you that the young Prince has been inside for the past few hours. He denied entry for anyone else." He speaks with some cowardice in his voice.

"What do you mean he denied entry?" The fat man swallowed loudly and began to wring his hands together.

"He left his sworn sword here to enforce his threat that if anyone should attempt to enter, they will not make it past the third step." He nods towards the Hound, who is staring blankly back. The religious man doesn't meet the the Hound's eyes. The tension is thick between them. Tommen walks up to the dog.

"Can I go through Sandor? I really want to see Draedon." He pushes his lower lip out and begins to pout. The dog cocks an eyebrow at my little cub before he moves to the side. Tommen smiles a bright toothy smile and runs towards the Sept. Myrcella follows almost immediately after, but at a ladylike pace.

When the rest of us begin to pass though, Clegane draws his sword to the Kingsguard. Specifically, the five members that aren't named Lannister or Selmy.

"You five don't enter." The scarred man gruffly says. His voice left little room to argue with. The White Cloaks seem to have taken offense to that. Meryn Trant is the one to answer for the group.

"We are sworn to protect the King and his family, to follow him to the edge of the world and back. Stand down before we cut you down, dog." The smaller man spits out. The five men put their hands on their swords, ready to draw them if Clegane denies them once more. Clegane stares straight into Trant's eyes and the droopy eyed man cowers a bit before he speaks again. "It's five to one, are you really that confident in your abilities?" The burned man stares for a but before he flashes a condescending sneer at the Knight.

"I am confident that I could cut through you five by myself. But I am more confident in my Prince leaving me with more than competent reinforcement." The scarred whistles quite loudly. He is answered with a light growl, that just so happens to be coming from behind us. All of the color begins to drain from Trant's face, the same with the other White Cloaks. Myself, Jaime, Barristan, and Robert turn around only to stare at Draedon's bloodthirsty beast.

It stalks by us without so much a glance, as if it knows it won't be attacked. Neither Knight attempts to draw their sword when it comes near. It makes its way to Clegane's side. I see the giant man stiffen before he relaxes. I notice he doesn't relax the entire way though. The White Cloaks begin to draw their swords only to be stopped by Robert.

"You five stand down and stay here. Clegane make sure that beast doesn't rip somebody's throat out." Horrible choice of words, the fat whoremonger. He apparently notices what he says and looks at me apologeticly. I ignore him and walk up the steps to the Sept. I don't concern myself with what Robert does as I walk away. Jaime is right on my heels as I enter this holy place.

As I look upon the scene in front of me, some things catch my eye. The first thing I notice is Joffrey laying upon an altar. He is dressed in a crimson and gold doublet and black breeches. One final honor to his 'parents'. The next thing I see is Myrcella kneeling in front of the Mother. While Tommen is standing behind her, but is staring sadly at the other lone figure in the room.

Draedon is standing by Joffrey's altar, staring despairingly at his younger brother. His once magnificent dark hair now was disheveled and limp from lack of care. A stubble beard mars his clean shaven face. But his eyes are what have changed the most. What was once enticing and mirthful, is now lifeless and haunting. They are bloodshot and shrunken in from lack of sleep and weeping. They contain unshed tears at this moment. No warm smile plastered upon his face. He appears to be simply broken and that is worse than death itself.

He doesn't look up at me when I approach the altar. I see that Robert goes over to where Tommen and Myrcella are. I turn back to my eldest two children. Joffrey looks peaceful. Something I haven't seen that in years, as he usually wore a sneer on his face. I turn my attention to Draedon though. He never looks up to meet my eyes. He never even looks away from Joffrey's face. Except for when he bends down to kiss Joff's forehead.

"I'm sorry I failed you, little brother." His voice is raspy and barely above a whisper. Once again standing straight, he abruptly turns and walks out of the Sept. Robert calls out to him and is ignored. Barristan attempts to speak to him and is ignored. Draedon leaves without taking his eyes off of the ground.

I sigh heavily as I turn to my little cubs. They have heartbroken expressions upon their faces. It is hurting them to see their elder brother, their idol, so devastated. I have to fix this. Somehow, I have to. If not for Draedon's sake, then for Tommen and Myrcella's.

 _ **Sansa POV**_

Joffrey is no longer pretty to me. Not just because of his pale appearance now as he lies upon this altar. Not because of the bandages wrapped around his sewn up throat. Not because his once of his once proud emerald eyes that are now lifeless and shut forever. But because I saw him for the first time. The true monster behind his pretty facade.

I saw the true him at Darry, but I believed that it wasn't the truth. That maybe it was just his emotions about the situation getting the better of him. That maybe he would be putting on an act. That he would be a good and loving husband. But not too soon after father spoke to him about our marriage cancellation, I finally saw the real Joffrey. The monster.

 _-Flashback-_

 _"May I ask what your business is here, my Lady?" The kind old Knight asks me when I approach Prince Joffrey's room. He was protecting him earlier today as well when father cancelled our marriage. I can't believe he would do such a thing. It is obvious that Joffrey and I love each other and were meant to be._

 _"Prince Joffrey asked me to supp with him and gave me this time to show up." I say cheerfully and flash the Knight a bright smile. He smiles back._

 _"Very well, but what about your wolf? Prince Joffrey is still a bit-" He was cut off as the Prince's door swung open. The Prince himself standing in the opening._

 _"Barristan, do not fret over the wolf. I have a cage for it inside." My smile falters but I pull it back up. The elder man nods his head and goes back to guarding the door. I enter with Lady in tow._

 _The Prince immediately shuffles me towards the cage he has set up for Lady. She whines lightly but enters it none the less. I lock it to make sure she doesn't get out and scare my should be future husband. Once it is secure, I turn to face the Prince. I see him already sitting at a table set for two._

 _The table is littered with food; venison pies that are chunky with carrots, bacon, and mushrooms, also there are sweet biscuits and apricot tarts with blackberry preserves. But the main dish that catches my eye are the lemon cakes. It is not long before I join him at the table. The dishes were already cut and ready to serve._

 _The night was good. We were talking and laughing. We were having fun and I thought that maybe there might be a chance I could sway father back to Joffrey. Everything was good..._

 _Until it wasn't._

 _It happened so fast that I couldn't react. His hand flew across the table to backhand me in the face. I didn't scream out in pain due to the sheer shock of the situation. I began to crawl away from him, only for him to turn me back towards him. I saw he had a knife in his grip. I knew that this was the end of me considering that nobody was coming to rescue me._

 _That is until Lady broke out of small cage and crossed the room faster than I could blink. She jumped directly on Joffrey and knocked him to his back. He was terrified when she growled loudly at him, I know that because I could see his terror leaking out of his breeches. Even if I wanted to call her off, which I didn't, she sunk her teeth into his throat and ripped it out._

 _Ser Barristan came in and saw what was occurring, he was so shocked that he didn't know what to do. He drew his sword only for Lady to run to me and begin to guard me. The old Knight runs to Joffrey and sees that he is dead. He turns to me with dread filled eyes._

 _"What in the Seven Hells happened?" I told him the story and he told me to go to my father and tell him the story._

 _-Flashback End-_

Lady is now dead because of this monster. She's dead because she protected me, it was Darry all over again. Only this time, I had no Prince to stand for me. The Crown Prince still will not even look at me. The fairytale Prince hates me. He hates me and my family. Father tried to have a contract drew up for me and Draedon but the Queen denied it horribly. And now I lost the closest companion to me and possibly the only marriage I could live with happily.

Arya lost Nymeria as well. The Queen stated that she didn't feel safe with one still alive, so Arya now hates the South even more than before. She wants to return home, and I do not blame her. Luckily for her though, she has her dancing lessons to distract her from the pain. Jeyne tries to help but she just doesn't understand.

Aside from the King himself, the Royal Family avoids us like we're a plague. That's an understatement for the Queen and Crown Prince. At least Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen smile politely at me and my family when we see each other. But not Draedon and the Queen. Should one of the Northerners be unlucky enough to meet their eyes, all they will see is pure, unbridled hatred.

The South has not lived up to my expectations. Maybe things will change soon, perhaps once the Royal Family grieves and mourns for the fallen monster. I don't know how long that will take but it will most likely be soon. They have had to known what kind of person the fallen Prince was.

 _ **Draedon POV**_

I hate crying. Whether it is myself doing it or another, I hate it. I used to do everything in my power to make sure that my siblings did not cry. Myrcella figured out that I would do anything to stop the tears early in her life, so she used that to her advantage. She would make me believe she was going to cry if I didn't read to her, or if she didn't get a sweet before dinner. She was always smart like that. I always let her have her way and I always gave her attention. She became so used to my attention and so dependant upon it, that if the day ever came that I ignored her, she would not be able to handle it.

Which is exactly what's happening now. Since Joffrey's death, I have kept myself locked into my room. Never leaving it, ignoring every soul outside of my twin doors. No one has been allowed entry. Not my father, not Alyssa, not Myrcella, not even mother.

She was the hardest one to ignore. There is something inside of you that breaks when you hear your mother's voice crack and she begins to choke up while simultaneously trying not to cry. Father just banged on the door for a few minutes before leaving, but mother stayed for close to an hour. Hearing the strongest person I know break down outside my door hurt almost as bad as failing Joffrey did.

Until the person I love the most in the world decides to do it.

It was just after dinner that she came to my room. She banged on my door and asked to enter. I ignored her like usual, then she began to cry. And now she's been doing it for close to twenty minutes and I'm breaking even more. I thought I was strong, I really did. But Joffrey's death showed me just how weak I really am. And hearing my mother cry and now Myrcella; I know that I have to get stronger. I can not allow events, no matter the significance, to alter my mood so drastically. I can't shut the world away when I am King, I have to be the one that carries the saddened country on my back.

I finally have enough of her weeping and break. I open the door to find Myrcella sitting on the ground with her back against the wall. She looks up at the sudden opening and I see the one thing I hate to see more than anything. Her eyes are red and puffy. Her cheeks are stained by her fallen tears. Her lips are quivering and her body is shaking from the sobs that continue to wrack her body. Exhaustion is the expression that mars her typically beautiful features.

Her red eyes meet my blue ones. Hope fills her emerald orbs when she sees me. I don't understand why she has that feeling though; I know my appearance is rough. I haven't exactly groomed myself to the best of my ability lately. She holds her arms out in the air like she used to do as a young child when she wished to be carried. I smile slightly before I bend down to pick her up. Her arms lock around my neck while my arms go beneath her back and the back of her legs. She nuzzles into me while I carry her down the hall to her room.

The trip was made in silence aside from Myrcella's light whimpers. I enter her room and make it to her four-poster bed. I set her down on it and attempt to stand up. I fail at this because Myrcella refuses to release my neck. I force her grip to loosen, only for her whimpers to become harder. I run my fingers through her hair to calm her, and it works for the most part. She grabs ahold of my hand with both of her own.

"Please don't leave. Just stay with me until I fall asleep. Please." She pleads with me. My heart breaks even more hearing her be so vulnerable.

I just nod my head and I try to soothe her by running my fingers through her hair once again. She smiles gently and closes her eyes. She leans into my hand when I stroke her cheek to wipe the remaining tears away. A soft smile graces her features as sleep takes her. As I brush some hair behind her ear, her door opens. I turn to look directly into another set of emerald eyes.

"Can you come put me to sleep too?" He speaks in the sweetest voice he can. I smile at him slightly and nod to him. The smile he gives me in return may be the brightest he has ever given me before.

I cross the room to him and pick him up and put him on my shoulders. He giggles loudly and I know that my mood has changed in the right direction. As I walk with Tommen on my shoulder down the hall, I spot mother coming our way. She sees us and displays a bright smile. The first I have seen on her face since Joffrey died. At least not the times that I saw her.

She follows us to his room and waits on the outside of his door. I set little Tommen down on his bed and tuck him in. I ruffle his hair and begin to leave when he speaks.

"Can you read me a story before you go?" His bright eyes are pleading with me. I ruffle his hair and smile down at him.

"What story do you wish to hear, little brother?" My voice is raspy and gruff, but he doesn't care though. He shows off a large toothy smile before he answers.

"The one about the Dragonknight. It's my favorite." It has been his favorite since he was four years old. I can only smile when I grab it off the shelf in his room.

It's not long into the book that Tommen is asleep soundly. I set the book down on his bedside table and run my hand through his shaggy golden hair one last time. As I exit the room, my mother opens her mouth to speak. I silence her with a finger. I gesture her to follow me to my room. She nods in agreement and follows. Sandor is by my doors, guarding it. He raises his brow as he sees me. It appears he didn't know I wasn't in my room. I can only smirk at that. I gesture for him to walk away a little. He nods and leaves his post by my doors.

Upon entering, mother instantly pours herself a goblet of wine. Arbor Gold filled to the brim. I smile at that and we sit at the table. We just stare at each other expectantly. One of us will either speak or break contact first. She cocks her head to the side slightly, unwilling to break first. So I do. I look to my hands that are resting upon my lap. She smirks victoriously. I can't see it but I know that it on her face.

"I'm sorry." My raspy voice is barely above a whisper. She doesn't respond, instead she waits for me to elaborate more. I can't meet her eyes as I continue. "I'm sorry that I failed you. I'm sorry I didn't protect Joffrey good enough. I'm sorry I went against you at Darry. I-I... I am just sorry I am weak."

She sets her wine down and moves over to me. She gently embraces me as lovingly as ever. I latch on like a terrified child who awoke in the dead of night after a horrific dream. That just makes her hold me tighter. Tears begin to burn my eyes as I refuse to shed them. She must have noticed because runs her fingers through my hair.

That action makes me think back to when Joffrey and I were children playing knights. I ended up falling down a set of stairs. Joffrey had to go get mother while I laid at the bottom of those horrible stairs in complete agony. Hours went by and still I laid there. I say hours, but it was most likely only five minutes before someone came. It was mother and she latched on to me like I was dying and she wished to say goodbye the proper way. I relished her hugs. I nuzzled into her as much as I could. Her smell always just enveloped me and made me feel so safe.

It still does. She smells of jasmine and vanilla. It's comforting and relaxing. Her scent surrounding me, along with her embrace, I find myself feeling like a small child again. The tears stop after a while and she leans back to look me in the eyes.

"You are not weak, Draedon. You lost your brother and did not wish to see anybody. That is perfectly acceptable." I move to speak, only to be silenced by her finger. "You did not fail anyone. Nothing you could have done would have stopped that beast from doing that to Joff. And as far as going against the family, you were forgiven less than an hour after it happened. You wished to be the Prince that stories and songs were made for, and you were. No, you are that Prince. You are the best Prince that Westeros has seen in decades." She caresses both my cheeks with her hands. "But you did learn some valuable lessons in all of this." I look up at her puzzled. "First one is simple: never go against your family. No matter how trivial." I nod in understanding. "But it's the second you should already know." I look into her eyes and she smiles her perfect smile at me.

"Your mother knows best. And I will always be there to guide you onto the right path." I can only nod at her in thankfulness. I'm glad that she will help me when I take the throne, I will need it.

 _ **Eddard POV**_

"The whore is pregnant." The King's fist slams down onto the council table loud as a thunderclap. "I warned you this would happen, Ned. Back in the North, but you did not wish to hear it. Well, you'll hear it now. I want them dead, mother and child both, and that fool Viserys as well. Is that plain enough for you? I want them dead."

The rest of the councillors were doing their best job pretending to be somewhere else. Nobody was looking at myself or the King. Even the Crown Prince hasn't looked at anyone aside from Ser Barristan. He has been depressed since the death of his brother, not that any can blame him. Although Joffrey deserved it, he was still a brother and a son.

"You would dishonor yourself if you do this." I have to reason with him and show him the right thing to do.

"I have seven kingdoms to rule. One King. Seven Kingdoms. Do you think that it's honor that keeps them in line. It doesn't, fear does. Fear and blood."

"Then we're no better than the Mad King." Robert narrows his eyes at the comparison. His face begins to turn purple.

"Careful Ned, careful." His face continues to darken.

"Your Grace, we're not even sure if the rumor is true. So please, just think rationally about this." I pray that the rumor is just that; a rumor. Varys finally speaks up.

"My lord, you wrong me. Would I bring lies to the king and council?" I look at the eunuch coldly.

"You would bring us the whisperings of a traitor half a world away, my lord. Perhaps Mormont is lying."

"Ser Jorah dares not to deceive me." He wears a sly smile. "Believe it, my lord, the princess is with child."

"So you say. If it is just a rumor, we need not worry. If the girl miscarries, we need not worry. If it is born a girl, we need not worry. If the babe dies in infancy, we need not worry." Robert continues to just stare unflinchingly at me.

"And if it is a boy? If it lives?" The king insists. None other than myself is defending the innocent girl.

"The Narrow Sea would still lie between us. I shall fear the Dothraki the day they teach their horses run on water." Robert took a swallow of wine and glowered at me across the council table.

"So you would counsel me to do nothing until the dragons pawn has landed his army on my shores, is that it?"

"By the time he had an army, it would be my shores, not yours father." The Prince speaks for the first time. "Lord Stark is right. There is a lot of different problems that could arise so we should just wait the girl's pregnancy out." I nod in approval.

"Exactly, your Grace. Besides, this 'dragonspawn' is in his mother's belly. Even Aegon did no conquering until after he was weaned." I spoke my words coolly.

"Gods! You two need to stop being so stubborn." The king looks around to the rest of his council members. "Have the rest of you mislaid your tongues? Will no one speak sense to this frozen-faced fool?" Varys takes this opportunity to voice his opinion.

"I understand your qualms, Lord Eddard, truly I do. It gave me no joy to bring this grievous news to the council. It's a terrible thing we contemplate, a vile thing. Yet we who presumes to rule must do vile things for the good of the realm, however much it pains us." He lays a soft hand on my sleeve. The ancient Maester clears his throat to speak, which is a prices that seems to take several minutes to complete.

"My order serves the realm, not the ruler. Once I advised king Arryn as loyally as I counsel King Robert now, so I bear this girl no ill will, my lord, but what happens if the Dothraki do invade? Whether it is now or two decades from now. How many soldiers will die? How many towns will burn? How many children will be ripped from their mothers to perish on the end of a spear?" He stroked his luxuriant white beard, infinitely weary. "Is it not wiser, even kinder, that this lone girl should die now so that tens of thousands might live?" He speaks slowly and somberly. Renly is the next to argue. He shrugs his shoulders as if it were a trivial problem.

"The matter send simple enough to me. We should have had Viserys and his sister killed years ago, but His Grace made the mistake of listening to Jon Arryn."

"Mercy is never a mistake, Lord Renly. Just ask Ser Barristan, on the Trident, he cut down a dozen good men, Robert's friends and mine. Yet here he sits, alive and giving good council. He has been loyal since he swore his oaths a second time. Mayhaps you want to kill him as well." Barristan stared hard at Renly, silently challenging the young Lord.

"There is honor in facing an enemy on the battlefield, but none in killing him in his mother's womb. Forgive me, your Grace, but I must stand with the Prince and Lord Stark." Ser Barristan says as his pale blue eyes switches from myself to Renly to Robert. I gesture my thanks to him. He nods in recognition. Littlefinger was the last. As I looked to him, he has to stifle a yawn.

"When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, it's best to just close your eyes and get it over with. Waiting won't make the maid any prettier." The Prince snorts a laugh. "Slit her throat and be done with it." Robert slams his fist down on to the table another time.

"There, it's been decided. Now the question remains as to how it should be done." He finishes off what wine was left in his goblet before he refills it once more.

"Mormont craves a royal pardon." Renly decides to remind us.

"Desperately," Varys says, "but he craves life even more. The horde is nearing Vaes Dothrak, where it is death to draw a blade. If I told you what the Dothraki would do to a poor man who used one on a khaleesi, none of you would be able to sleep tonight." He stroked a powder cheek. "Now poison, Tears of Lys in particular would work well."

"Poison is a coward's weapon." Robert complains. I have had enough.

"You wish to send hired swords to kill an innocent girl and still quibble about honor?" I push my chair back and stand. "Donut yourself, Robert. The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. See her tears and hear her cries. You owe her that much."

"Gods," Robert bellows the word out in barely contained fury. "You mean it, damn you." The king reaches for the flagon of wine at his elbow, found it empty, and flings it away to shatter against the wall. "I am out of wine and patience. Just have it done."

"I will not be part of a murder, Robert. Do as you will but do not ask for my seal for it." Confusion is littered across his face. Defiance is not a dish he is used to. Comprehension finally shines in his eyes.

"You are the King's Hand, Lord Stark. You will do as commanded or I will find a Hand who will." Purple returns to his face as anger is coursing through his body.

"Then I wish him every success." I unfasten the heavy clasp from my cloak. I lay it on the table that the council sits at. "I thought you a better man than this, Robert. I thought we had a nobler King. Mayhaps you need to step down and let the Prince rule, he has the honor you had once." The Prince nods in appreciation, I nod back silently.

"Out," Robert croaks, choking on his rage. "Out, damn you, I'm done with you. What are you waiting for? Go, run back to Winterfell. Make certain that I never see your face again, or I swear, I'll have your head on a spike!"

I bow and make a hasty exit. I see the Kingsguard member by the door, Blount I believe, he says nothing as I pass. I need to get my daughters and my men and leave this horrible place. Starks should never go to the South. That fact has been proven many times in the past.


	5. It's Always Darkest

_**A/N: Sorry for the wait. Fuck, I'm terrible with deadlines. But special shout-out to War Sage for messaging me and motivating me to write 4,000 words in a single night.**_

* * *

 _ **Tyrion POV**_

Among the lords of the Vale were several of my companions from the high road; Ser Rodrik Cassel, pale from half-healed wound, stood with Ser Willas Wode beside him. Marillion the singer has appeared to have found a new wooden harp. I can see Bronn lounging in the rear of the hall, beneath a pillar. His black eyes fixed on me, while his hand lays lightly on the pommel of his sword.

"You wish to confess your crimes, we are told." Catelyn Stark speaks first.

"I do, my lady." I answer simply.

Lysa Arryn smiles at her sister. "The sky cells always break them. The gods can see them there, and there is no darkness to hide in." Catelyn says something to Lyss, but is paid no mind. "Say what you will, Imp." She commands of me.

"Where to begin? I am a vile little man, I confess it. My crimes and sins are beyond counting, my lords and ladies. I have lain with whores, not once but hundreds of times." I pause for a second to collect my thoughts. "When I was ten, I stuffed my uncle's boots with goat shit. When confronted with my crime, I blamed a squire. Poor boy was flogged, and I escaped justice. When I was twelve I milked my eel into a pot of turtle stew." Gasps from the ladies can be heard, as well as guffaws from the men. "I flogged the one-eyed snake, I skinned my sausage. I made the bald man cry into the turtle stew," I make a gesture of the action, "which I do believe my sister ate. At least I hope she did. I once brought a jackass and a honeycomb into a brothel-" I am interrupted by Lysa Arryn.

"What do you imagine you are doing, dwarf?" Her pale face had turned a burning pink. I cock my head to one side.

"Why, confessing my crimes, my lady." Catelyn Stark takes a step forward.

"You are accused of sending a hired knife to slay my son Bran in his bed, and of conspiring to murder Lord Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King." I give her a helpless shrug.

"Those crimes I cannot confess, I fear. I know nothing of any murders." Lysa rises from her weirwood throne.

"I will not be made a mock of. You have had your little jape, Imp. I trust you enjoyed it. Take him back to the dungeon."

"Is this how justice is done in the Vale?" I all but roar at everyone inside this hall. "Does honor stop at the Bloody Gate? You accuse me of crimes, I deny them, so you throw me into an open cell to freeze and starve." I lift my head to show everybody the bruises on my face. "Where is the King's justice? Is the Eyrie not part of the Seven Kingdoms? I stand accused, you say. Very well. I demand a trial."

A low murmuring fills the High Hall. I know I have her where I want her now. I am highborn, the son of the most powerful Lord in the realm, the favorite uncle of the Crown Prince. I can see her small mouth twitch in a petulant smile.

"If you are tried and found guilty, you will pay with your life's blood. We keep no headsmen in the Eyrie, my lord of Lannister. Open the Moon Door."

The press of spectators part. A narrow weirwood door standing between two slender marble pillars, a crescent moon carved in the white wood. Those standing closest edged backward as a pair of guardsmen marches through. One man removed the heavy bronze bars; the second pulled the door inward. Their blue cloaks rise snapping from their shoulders, caught in the sudden gust of wind that came howling through the open door.

"Behold the King's justice." Lysa says. Torch flames flutter like pennons along the wall. "You want a trial, my lord of Lannister. Very well, a trial you shall have. My son will listen to whatever you say, and you shall hear his judgement. Then you may leave... by one door or the other."

She looks so pleased with herself, but small wonder why. How could a trial threaten her, when her weakling son is the Lord judge. I glance at the Moon Door before I turn back to her.

"I thank you, my good lady, but I see no need to trouble Lord Robert." I say as politely as possible for my situation. "The gods know of my innocence. I will have their verdict, not the judgement of men. I demand a trial by combat."

Laughter erupts in the hall. Lord Nestor Royce snorted, Ser Willas chuckled, Ser Lyn Corbray guffawed, and others threw back their heads and howled until tears ran down their faces. Even the wind seemed to whistle with derision. But I never look away from Lysa Arryn. I see her watery blue eyes fill with uncertainty. I have caught her off guard.

"You have that right." She tries to balance her voice.

A dozen men all spoke at once, clamoring to be heard. I find that disheartening to realize so many strangers are eager to kill me. Perhaps this was not such a clever plan after all. Lady Lysa raises her hand for silence.

"I thank you, my lords, for the honor you wish to give my fallen husband. No men in the Seven Kingdoms are as bold and true as the knights of the Vale, but sadly, I can only choose one to be given this honor." She gestures with her hand. "Ser Vardis Egen, you were my lord husband's good right hand. You shall be our champion."

"My lady," he speaks gravely, sinking to one knee, "pray give this burden to another, I have no taste for it. This man is no warrior, he is a dwarf, half my size and lame in the legs. It would be shameful to slaughter such a man and call it justice."

"I agree." The Lady of Arryn turns her glare to me as I speak.

"You demanded a trial by combat."

"And now I demand a champion, such as you have chosen for yourself. My brother Jaime and my nephew Draedon both would gladly take my part, I know." I smile inwardly at myself.

"Your precious Kingslayer is hundreds of leagues away from here, and the crown prince would not make the journey even if we sent him a letter, as from what I have heard, he is very distraught over the loss of his brother." What does she mean by that? Loss of his brother?

"What do you speak of? What has happened to my nephews?" Confusion litters my face and my voice as I speak. She grows a smug smile while Stark has a downtrodden expression.

"I suppose I forgot to tell you while you were in your cell, Prince Joffrey had unexpectedly died while you were being brought here. And, well, the crown prince has become quite reclusive since the funeral." Her smile has only become more prominent.

I am not upset because of Joffrey's death, I never really cared for him since he never treated me decently. But I am upset because Draedon is hurt and I'm not there to help him through this, like I promised him I would be when he was younger. I have to be there for him, I have to get out of here and make it to him.

"But none of this matters at the moment, as your trial will happen today. I suggest, my lord, that you find a champion or you will have to fight yourself." Satisfaction is plastered on her face.

The only thing that I can do is look around. No one moves to help me. For a long moment I wonder if this will be how I die. But then I hear something, stirring at the rear of the hall.

"I'll stand for the dwarf." Bronn calls out.

* * *

 _ **Draedon POV**_

I rather like my new appearance. I finally look presentable after days of restoration. Hard fought battles to untangle the knots that littered my hair. I nearly cried on one particularly bad knot that simply refused to leave its place upon my scalp. Myrcella did me a great favor and ripped that bastard out.

Pain. Pain is the only way to describe what I felt. But in the end, my hair is now back to its once proud state and my pain tolerance has now taken a leap towards amazing levels. And it made Myrcella smile, so that is always a good thing. I would rather not do it again unless absolutely necessary. It's a funny thing really; I would rather have to fight an army of bandits that want to kill me than have my little sister brush my hair.

Mother dislikes my beard as it makes me look more like my father than I usually do. But I like it, I feel like I look more mature now. People won't listen to a man that looks like a child.

I am still deeply saddened about Joffrey and his horrible demise. It still hurts but my other siblings need me to be my normal self. But until I can be my normal self, I will put on a happy persona and smile like nothing is wrong. And the ultimate test happens in just a few minutes; breaking my fast with my family.

My appearance is to my liking so I can be on my way to eat. My hair is combed and my beard is trimmed. I am wearing a gold doublet with black trimmings, black breeches, and black boots. Nothing fancy, but so much better than just a tunic. I am satisfied with my appearance and decide it is time to grace my family with presence. I look over to Ruby to find her still sleeping. I smile at her peaceful form and leave the room. Sandor looks at me and I nod for him to follow. He listens, as always.

As I begin my journey through the hallways, I think about recent events. My uncle Tyrion has been taken by Stark's wife for unknown reasons. Jaime confronted Lord Stark in the streets of Flea Bottom and completely slaughtered the gathered Northerners before he fled the city. Lord Stark was injured and had been asleep until yesterday. He awoke and was immediately in conversation with my father and mother. Father is now hunting in the Kingswood with a rather large party.

One thing I learned from the fight between Jaime and Stark; have adequate fighters on your side. Stark did not have many from what it appears. All I have is Sandor and Ruby, so perhaps I should invest in some sellswords or something along those lines. It is just extremely hard for me to trust other people with my life, especially people I have to pay. People are fickle, they will turn on you in an instance if they think it will save them or place them in a better position in life. Sandor wouldn't turn on me, I know that he is extremely loyal to me. And Ruby wouldn't turn on me, at least I don't think she would.

I make it to the room containing my remaining family. Sandor and I enter the room, not as quietly as I had hoped we would, and we are now officially being stared at. At least they appear happy to see us, or rather, they are happy to see me. I feel like they only accept Sandor because he will always be in my life.

I give a small smile at them and walk over to the table while Sandor stands guard by the door. I ruffle Tommen's shaggy blonde hair and he rewards me with a bright smile. I kiss Myrcella on the top of her head and she smiles a bright smile as well. I kiss my mother on her cheek as she reciprocates the affection with a smile. I sit at her side and see that I am late, as their plates are almost completely empty of food. I pour myself a cup of wine, and I do not need to look up to know that my mother is staring at me.

"Well what do you two plan to do today?" I ask my remaining siblings in hopes that mother will avert her gaze to anything else besides me. It doesn't work.

"Well I have needlework and then mother is going to give me my lessons personally." Myrcella spoke rather eagerly. I can see a spark in her eyes about it.

I nod at her and swallow my bite of bacon before responding. "Well it was always a great experience to learn from mother. She made learning fun unlike Pycelle. So what about you, Tommen?" I look towards my little brother, who has a somber expression marring his features.

"I have to go to lessons with Grand Maester Pycelle." I understand his face now. I can only nod at him once before I make eye contact with Sandor. He raises a brow to me, silently questioning what I plan to do.

I turn back to little Tommen, who has found a great interest in his plate. "Well how about after those lessons, you come find me and I will give you lessons in your duties as a Prince." His bright innocent green eyes peers up at me and they shine bright.

"Really? Like the lessons you gave Joffrey? I always wanted to learn them but he always told me that I was not old enough." He speaks quickly and I fake a smile for his behalf. But when he spoke his name, it brought up the memories from the lessons I gave to Joff when he was about Tommen's age. I have to fight to keep the tears from my eyes. I can only assume that my mother is aware of this fact by the next words she speaks.

"Well you two are finished breaking your fast, you both need to go prepare yourselves for your lessons today." They both mumble but bid their goodbyes and leave. I finish off the wine in my cup before I refill it once more. Mother just stares at me as I do this.

"Wait outside, dog." She states abruptly, but never taking her eyes off of me. Sandor looks to me for confirmation and I give him a nod. He steps out the door and stands guard outside of it. "Are you okay, Draedon?" Concern evident in her voice.

"I am just fine, mother. Why do you ask?" I take a drink of wine while she forms a response.

"You're drinking wine. You don't drink."

"Maybe I just started drinking. Is there something that you need, mother? Or do you enjoy my company so much that you kick your other children out just to be alone with me?" Sarcasm drips from my voice while I speak.

"You can take that fake smile off of your face and show me your true emotion." I maintain eye contact with her while I think about it. I mentally agree and do what she asks of me.

My face changes. Where there was once a small, fake, cheery smile, there is now a prominent scowl. My eyes change as well, back to lifeless and full of sorrow. My mother's face changes too, a worried expression replaces her signature scowl.

"You hide your ice behind warmth." She states. I scoff at her.

"That was a great observation, mother. I did not realize that about myself." I take another drink of my wine. She raises her impeccably sculpted eyebrow at my response.

"I give you life. I teach you what you need to know about life. I raise you to be a strong king and an even better man. I do all of these things for you, and you speak to me as if I am but a lowly servant. Fix your tone, Draedon." I can only look down and away from her when she finishes. She sighs heavily.

"I apologize, mother. I just don't know what to do about this. I am trying to be strong for Tommen and Myrcella's benefit, but I just can't be like I was before. I just can't be." I can't look at her while I speak, I can't see the disappointment in her eyes.

"Draedon, I know that you can't be the same as before. And it is completely understandable." I slowly turn towards her, blinking at her with hopeful eyes. She smiles slightly. "But you are right, they need you to be you. I understand it hurts you, it still hurts me as well, and I am not asking you to forget it. I am not. I am asking you to accept it and add it to your armor."

I cock my head to the side and stare at her confused. She chuckles at my stupefied face.

"Allow it to make you stronger. Accept it and allow it to harden you. By doing this, you will be more prepared for when you take the throne and rule as King. The realm needs a strong hand. But more importantly, your family needs you back. I have already lost one son, don't let me lose another one. Please." She stands from her chair and smoothens her ruby red dress. She walks towards the door and makes it about halfway there before I break.

"Mother." I call to her almost desperately.

I stand quickly and make my way to her. I wrap my arms around her securely when I make it to her. She almost immediately returns the gesture.

"I will get over this, mother. That I promise you. I am not going anywhere. I am going to get stronger, for you. Stronger for them. Stronger for me." I tighten my hug around her. "Thank you, mother. For everything. I love you." She can only smile the sweetest smile I have ever seen come across her face.

"I love you as well, my little cub." I smile as well, my first genuine smile since Joffrey's death. I leave the room and nod at Sandor to follow. He easily falls into step behind me. I have a new objective in my life: become whole again.

* * *

 _ **Alyssa POV**_

I like walking through Flea Bottom, just so I remember how far I have come. I see people having to work themselves to the bone just to survive and I can smile because I no longer have to do that.

My life is not as luxurious as some, but it is more so than most. I don't worry about the same things as I used to. All because of the Prince. I have thanked him many times for saving me but it is still not enough. So I was planning on giving him my most valuable possession; my body. But that same night the Prince's little brother died and the Prince that saved me, changed.

He became reclusive. Never leaving his room for any reason, except the funeral. He became quiet. He did not speak a single word to me no matter how many I spoke to him. He became hollow inside. He was just a shell of the man he once was. But now he has come back to his former glory. Not all of the way back, but enough for me to get excited about.

And that's the reason I am in the city right now. I want to personally collect, prepare, and deliver his dinner on this night. I will be preparing the Prince honeyed duck, roasted in a crust of garlic and herbs, with a salad of spinach, turnip greens, and chickpeas. Iced blueberries with sweet cream will also be on his table.

After I have collected all of the items that I plan to make tonight, I begin to head back to the giant fortress known as the Red Keep. As I am walking back, I fall behind two slow walking people in rather deep conversation. The man is disgusting looking, as if he hasn't bathed in a month. He has no hair on top of his head but the remaining hair on the sides and back hangs down to his shoulders. The hair he has is lathered in grease, I almost cringe just from the sight of the man. I can smell him from my spot several feet behind them.

The red haired woman, that is enjoying his company some how, is a plump woman. A portion of the city is begging and starving, but she most definitely is not. Her round face is full of craters. My brown eyes are the color of chocolate, where as her brown eyes are the same as deck boards on a ship. Nothing spectacular about them, just simply plain. I decide to listen to their deep conversation since I have to follow the stench of the man.

"Why did tha fat stag leave anyways?" The plump woman asks.

"To go to tha forest most like. He doesn't do well in confrontation, so when tha wolf went down because of the lion, he left." The dirty man states. The red haired woman has a thoughtful look on her face.

"What is he gonna do with that anyways?" She turns to look him in the eye. The man shrugs his shoulders.

"Who gives a shit. Not my problem." He throws his arm around the large woman. "He left tha wolf in charge while he is gone. So it is up to tha wolf to decide tha lion's fate." She scoffs at his movement but makes no attempt to remove his arm.

"Well tha lions should have nice quick deaths then." They both laugh heartily at her joke. It takes her a few moments to ask another question. "Wait, why did the fat stag leave the wolf in charge instead of his own blood?"

The greasy haired man just chuckles at her. "Didn't ya hear? The bastard has went mad with grief over tha little golden shit's death." The plump woman gasps.

"Really? That's great, another mad King. Maybe tha wolf should kill him too now." She shakes her head at that, in disbelief. The man laughs, while my anger is beginning to boil.

"I heard he has actually fed people to his lion just to make his suffering lessen." As if the Prince would do such a thing, I can only shake my head at this. "But fuck royalty right now, let's go home and find out if I can make you scre-" I tune out the rest of their conversation after that.

I can not believe that they think that of the Prince. He is entirely too kind to do anything such as that. The worst thing that he has done is kill a man who beat his wife, so I can not even comprehend their thought process. Of course he is upset about his brother's death, who wouldn't be? It was his first sibling he knew, and to go the way he did would hurt anyone. I just need to make it back to the kitchen and make him a great dinner on this night.

With that thought, I push my way past the disgusting couple and begin to walk faster back to the Red Keep. I hear their cries of indignation as I push past them, but my thoughts remaining on the Prince that has changed my life for the better.

* * *

 _ **Tommen POV**_

"We are going to go eat dinner. Just the two of us. Well the two of us and Ruby, but she does not speak much." Draedon smiles lightly when he says that. He looks younger when he smiles. I like it.

"What are we having for dinner, Draedon?" I ask with a smile on my face. I am happy that he wants to spend time with me. This has not happened since Joffrey died.

He looks down at me and tussles my hair, "We will be having a surprise, little brother. But do not fret, your belly will be full when you go to sleep on this night." I laugh at him mussing up my hair. He smiles at me and I feel happier for it, so I smile back.

We sit at the table in his room, not talking about anything important, waiting patiently for our food to be brought here. Ruby was resting from her hunt earlier in the day. She was lying down, her head and half of her body lying on the bed, while the other half was on top of a chest at the end of Draedon's bed. She looks so peaceful like that. Although, the bed looks to be straining against her weight.

The lessons Draedon has been teaching me the last few days have been very helpful. And unlike when Grand Maester Pycelle teaches me anything, Draedon makes it fun. He gives me sweets if I understand his lessons quickly or if I pay rapt attention. Which I should be paying attention to him now, but I never spend a bunch of time in his room, so I want to memorize every aspect of it.

"...a good prince should desire to be considered tranquil and not cruel." He takes a drink from his goblet.

"So Joffrey was not a good prince?" I ask him. He hesitates before he sets the goblet down and looks at me. He lets out a heavy breath.

"He was a good prince." He looks down at the table, a sad look on his face. "Once." He drains the rest of the goblet and refills it. I think that he has wine in his, while I have water.

"What do you mean by that?" He looks at me again before releasing another heavy breath.

"He was like you once. He was happy and kind. He used to love to meet everybody that he came across." He has not looked at me while he has spoken. He pauses the story and I wait for him to continue. He doesn't.

"Well what happened?" He doesn't speak for a while.

"I don't know, Tommen." He whispers to me. He clears his throat. "Mother became pregnant with Myrcella, and Joffrey became jealous. He didn't want to compete for the attention, I suppose." He takes another heavy breath. "He started becoming what you knew him to be." He is silent for a few moments. "But I never saw him like you did. Mainly because he never acted the way he acted towards you, towards me. We had our differences, don't think otherwise, but we also had a great relationship as well. We would have a dinner like this one that you and I are having right now, at least once a month."

"Every month?" I ask sadly. He nods his response, finally looking at me.

"Since he turned ten and two. You ask that as if you're sad about it, Tommen. Why?" He has a confused look on his face when he asks me.

"I do not know. Maybe because we do not do anything like that." He stares at me before he laughs. A loud laugh, one that I have not heard since Joffrey.

"Tommen, little brother, I do special things with each of you that I do not do with the others. I had dinner with Joffrey, I sing with Myrcella, I read to you. And when you get older, I will train with you. Which is something I have not done with anybody. You will be the first." His eyes have a small sparkle like they used to have.

"You don't read to Cella?" I ask softly. He chuckles a bit.

"No, Tommen. I do not read to Myrcella, and I haven't read to Joffrey since we were little. You are the only one that I roar like a lion for when I read about Loreon the Lion. I promise you that, little brother." He smiles at me, and I smile back so he knows that I'm happy with that.

He ruffles my hair and there is a knock on the door. He opens it to a dark haired woman I have never seen before. She has the food for dinner though, so she must be a servant. Draedon accepts the food and brings it over to the table. He smirks at me before he cuts into his piece of honeyed chicken and places it in his mouth. I follow his movements and begin to eat our dinner. Hopefully, the first of many.

* * *

 _ **Draedon POV**_

 _'The King has been injured severely.'_

The words taunt me as I run to my father's room. I am breathing heavily as I weave through the halls to get to my father's side, not because I'm tired from running, but because I'm sick of being too weak to protect my family.

First, Jon Arryn dies. The man that I considered a grandfather to me dies. The man who taught me all of the sigils of my future bannermen dies. And I couldn't help him. I watched by his bedside as his life faded from his eyes.

Joffrey was the next to go. My little brother, who used to follow me around and mimic my movements, died. And I was nowhere to be found as a wolf, that I fought to save, ripped his throat out. I could only weep over his cold, bloody body.

Tyrion is being held prisoner and I have done nothing to free him. He is alone, in a cell, and I have done nothing. Stannis left and went back to the Stormlands, I can only assume because he knew. He knew that I wouldn't be able to help him if the need arose.

He was right in thinking that.

I can see the entourage standing outside his door. I smell a revolting smell as I near. A smell I know all too well by now.

The smell of death.

A blood covered Barristan is standing guard by his door, speaking to a shaking Renly. Renly, as well, is covered in blood. I slow from a run to a brisk walk as I approach them. As I am spotted by my father's hunting party, their faces change.

From the looks of horror of what occured comes the dawn of what I hate. I can see it in their beady, little eyes. The dawn of pity. Oh, how I loathe that fucking look.

I make it to my uncle and the elder knight. Their eyes meet mine and I know it is not good. My mind can only think of the worst scenarios. We stand quietly for a moment, before I ask the question that is burning in my mind.

"Is... Is he..." I can't even finish the thought. It's Barristan that answers.

"No, your grace. The King is still alive, for now." The last words were but a whisper from the Lord Commander.

"We tried to help but he ordered us not to intervene. He appeared to lose his footing and the boar took advantage, nephew." Renly says before he places his hand onto my shoulder, for comfort and support I suppose.

"I need to see him. Excuse me." I abruptly shake his hand off of my shoulder and walk past them, only to stop before I open the door. "A boar did this to him?"

Barristan nods solemnly, while Renly answers verbally. "Ironic, isn't it?"

I can only stare blankly at that statement. A fucking pig severely injured my father?

The stench that I smelled while on my travel here has only gotten worse the closer that I get to the door. My hand rests upon the handle, but I make no move to open the door. I can hear conversations coming from inside the room. I can pick out my mother's voice, as well as Varys and Pycelle. But not my father's voice, meaning one of two things; he's saving the strength to talk for importance, or he's already gone.

I'm terrified to find out which one it is.

The door creaks a little when I finally gather the courage to open it. The conversations cease quickly and all eyes fall on me. I ignore everyone except my father. He beckons me closer with his hand, so I kneel by his bed. I encase his hand with mine. It's cold and damp from sweat. With my free hand, I lift the blanket that covers him. I only wish I hadn't.

I can see where they tried to close him up, but it wasn't near enough. The boar had ripped him from his groin to his nipple with its tusks. The wine soaked bandages that were applied are already black with blood, but the smell. Gods, the smell. My stomach turns at the ungodly aroma. I let the blanket fall.

"Stinks," father says. "The stink of death, don't think I can't smell it. But trust me, I paid him back." The smile he wears as he says this is as terrible as his wound, his teeth red.

I can only nod. "That's what you always do to your enemies, father. You pay them back." My voice heavy with emotion. He tightens his grip on my hand.

"I remember when you were very young, you came down with a nasty fever. Your mother will remember." I look towards her, she smiles sadly and nods.

"Your little hand was so hot. Pycelle said you would not last the night." She turns to look at the old man, rather sharply. Father gets my attention with a horrible cough.

"Anyways, I went down to the Sept, and I prayed. Prayed that the Gods be merciful and take my life to give to you. I prayed to every single one, I prayed all night." I give him a drink of water when his voice begins to crack. "That walk back to the Keep was the longest of my life. When I finally went into your mother's room, and you were sleeping in her arms, your fever had broken. I knew then that my days were numbered. But to see you all grown up, I made the right choice. I'm sure of it."

I can't stop the tears that come. I don't even try. I can't think of anything to say before the door is opened once again. This time by Lord Stark. I turn to look at him, only to turn back to my father by his voice.

"Draedon, I know that I was a good father and that's my fault. Because you're a great son, and you made me proud of you everyday that I was here. It doesn't make up for anything and I should've said it more often, but I love you, son."

I hug him as the words leave his lips. It causes him pain and discomfort, I know, but he doesn't say a word about it. He just hugs me back. Tears streaming down my face as I bury my face into his shoulder.

"I love you." I say quietly to him. I release him and lean away from him. He smiles that red smile and I can't help but smile back.

"Sorry to cut this goodbye short, but I need to speak with Ned. Alone." I get the message and nod. I lead the way out of the room.

Followed by my mother, Pycelle, and Varys, we exit the room into the hallway. Pycelle lingered a little to hand father some Milk of the Poppy. As I stand there, I notice that Tommen and Myrcella are nowhere around. Mother must notice my confusion.

"They were here earlier, they are back in their rooms being watched by the white cloaks." I nod. It's in that instance that I abruptly turn away and take off, sprinting down the hallway. Mother calls out to me but I ignore her. I hear footsteps and armor clinking together behind me, so I know I'm being followed by somebody but I don't dare stop.

I run, as fast as I can through the conjoined halls. My long legs striding down them easily. Tears blur my vision, but I don't slow down one bit. I make through the Keep and out the doors. I slow down none as I embark through the city. One particular location in mind, a location I'm all too familiar with now.

I look a mess, I know. A towering man, crying his eyes out while sprinting through the city in a blood soaked doublet. I can feel the eyes of the commoners on me but I don't allow it to deter me. They move out of my path or they end up on the ground. I finally make it to where I'm going.

The stairs to the Great Sept of Baelor.

I race up the steps at a pace of three at a time. I burst through the mahogany doors with gold trim. There is not a soul inside this place besides myself. I approach the statues slowly, almost like one would a wild animal. I stand awkwardly for a few moments.

"I'm not a religious person, not one bit. I don't really know how to do this. Or even who to do this to." I look at each of the statues' faces. " Is it the Warrior I speak to? To you, I ask that you spare one of the greatest soldiers you'll ever meet. Or is the Mother I need to pray to? To ask you to leave one of your children here where he is needed. Or is it the Stranger? To ask you to release him from your clutches." I fall to my knees and bow my head.

"I don't worship you. Nor do I pray to you. I haven't since I was old enough to make my own decision regarding religion. I know that it is selfish for me to turn my back on you until I need something from you, but I have tried to be selfless for a long time so it's time for me to be a little selfish. I need him. I need him so much more than you do. Than any of you." Tears begin to slip again.

"So here I am, Draedon Baratheon, on my knees, begging you to spare him. The Crown Prince begging and pleading with you to let me keep him. If only for a few more years. You have already taken my brother, isn't that enough. Please." I keep my head bowed for a long time. Asking the Gods that I don't even believe in, to spare my father.

I don't know how long I am in that position, on my knees with my head low, but I know that it doesn't matter when I hear it. That fucking bell. It's notes burned forever in my memory. It can only mean one thing; death has come for the King.

As I begin to stand, i make it to one knee before my mind finally connects the weight of the situation with everything else surrounding it. My father is dead. I can hear his last words to me. See his bloody smile. Smell the death that was his wound. My stomach begins to turn just thinking about it again.

Then my mind races. And then the significance of the situation hits me. My father, the King is dead. Meaning the Crown Prince takes control of the throne. I'm the Crown Prince.

My turning stomach finally explodes. Releasing its contents all over this supposedly sacred ground. I can only drop forward and continue to regurgitate everything in my stomach, my arms being the only things to keep me from falling into my own vomit. My arms begin to get heavy from straining so much while having to hold myself up.

After I finish emptying what's left in my stomach, I use what's left of my strength to push myself to the side of the mess I made. I can only stare at the faces of the Gods who ignored my pleading and left me with such a burden. They stare back at me, mocking me. It's in this moment that I know.

There are no Gods.


	6. Aftermath

******_A/N: I know that this is a small chapter and I'm sorry but it's just a filler chapter. Something that will hopefully appease you. Also, updates will be slow and irregular, in case you haven't noticed that I'm extremely bad at updating on a regular basis. So apologies for the wait._**

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 **Cersei POV**

This pig is indescribably delicious. It has been roasted for hours, with mushrooms and apples for extra flavor. It tastes like victory. No, not like victory, it's stronger than that.

It tastes like triumph. Pure, unadulterated triumph.

It is even than I could have ever imagined it to be. I'm unaware if it is actually the pig that tastes immaculate or if it tastes good because that fat oaf, Robert, is actually dead and gone. I will never have to suffer through his drunken gropes again. His body will be transported to Storm's End to be buried soon, and then he will never cross my mind again.

I turn away from my plate, filled with the succulent boar, to look at my children that are seated next to me. Tommen has a sad look on his handsome chubby face. He looks so much like Jaime that it's scary. Only difference is that when Jaime was Tommen's age, he was leaner and much more confident that Tommen is. I have to do something to change his attitude. He has to become a prince that people will follow. He needs to be a person his brother can rely on to handle the tedious affairs that shouldn't bother a King.

Myrcella is maturing into a beautiful woman, just like her mother. She is beginning to fill out her dresses more than she ever could before. What little fat that she had from being a child is slowly dissipating. Once she bleeds for the first time, she will be drawing betrothal offers, and I do not know if I am ready for that. Draedon will not like that day anymore than I.

Speaking of Draedon, he seems lost in thought in his seat next to me. He appears very distant tonight, like he isn't even here. His food is untouched and no conversation is coming from him. Not even when Cella and Tommen try to start one with him. He just smiles and nods at them. He's quiet and reserved, but not depressed. No, not depressed. That is very surprising, I assumed he would've taken Robert's death harder than he has. He didn't lock himself inside his room, like he did when Joff passed. He's just been unforthcoming, and I do not like it one bit.

I reach my hand out and touch his arm to gain his attention, which I succeed at doing. His blank stare becomes fixated on me instead of the open air in front of him. His usually shining blue eyes, are now dull but full of confusion. His brows become furrowed as he silently questions my action, begging for an answer.

I finally decide to break our silent stare off. "Are you okay, sweetling?" I lean towards him and ask him quietly.

He stares at my hand before he meets my eyes again. He smiles a small smile and nods his head slowly. A slim coronet of silver and sapphires rests above his brow. The light metal contrasts beautifully with his midnight dark hair, while the sapphires make his eyes even deeper than usual. Without the coronet holding it in place, his long lustrous mane would be shaking with each nod of his head.

I don't believe him. He's never been able to lie to me, I'm not sure if it's because I'm good at reading him or if he just doesn't want to lie to me, or perhaps a combination of the two. Inwardly, I am smiling with satisfaction.

I tilt my head to the side and glare at my eldest. "Do not lie to me, Draedon. And use your words, you're King now." He flinches lightly at my words.

His eyes do not meet my own. "I'm fine, mother." His tone is quiet. Quiet, but not timid. There's finality in his soft tone, which if I was someone else, I would drop the issue, but I'm Cersei Lannister.

"What's wrong?" I say as gently as I can. I cup his chin and tenderly force him to look at me.

His eyes show a small amount of emotion in his deep sapphire pools. An emotion that I haven't seen in a long time; insecurity.

"Mother, what if..." He looks at Myrcella and Tommen briefly, to see them in conversation with each other, before his eyes return to mine. "What if I'm not capable of being a good King? How long before the Kingdoms turn on me? How long before they revolt against me? How long before you and Myrcella and Tommen turn against me?" He remained calm as he spoke, so as to not cause alarm with his impressionable siblings. They can't see him be vulnerable, not their elder brother. "I'm not prepared for this. I can't handle this. I can't..."

I finally stop him with a well placed hand to the cheek. His eyes, his entire body begging, no, pleading with me for reassurance by the person that raised him. That has lavished him with affection and praise his entire life. The person who made him the man what he is today.

Me.

"Draedon." My hand moving to cup his chin. "My dear, sweet Draedon. You will never have to fret over whether or not your family will support you or not. We will always be there for you, no matter what. That, I promise." I say as sweetly as I can, as lowly as I can before I am completely inaudible. His attention never wavering from focusing on me. Good, it should make this easier. "And if you feel that you're not yet ready for the throne, I can begrudgingly rule in your stead as regent. I would have done this anyways, but as you are of age, it is your decision." My sweet smile never falling from place.

His eyes darken just a bit, to look like the sea right before it begins to send vicious waves to crash and destroy the base of Casterly Rock. Hearing that as a girl frightened me, but to see it first hand, in my eldest cub no less, terrifies me. He should never look at me like that. He couldn't have figured out my play that quickly.

"Thank you, mother, for the offer. But how would that look, for the boy King to have his mother rule for him. That would make them lose what little respect that they hold for me to disappear. No, I have to do this." He says as his eyes trail away from me and to the crowd of people in front of our table, solemnly chatting amongst themselves. He turns back to me and grabs my hand with his much larger one. "But I need help, mother. I... I need you. You will help me with this, right?"

He squeezes my dainty hand gently. His eyes have lightened up tremendously and I can clearly see the vulnerability that my eldest child holds within. He is mine and I hate that he is feeling what he is feeling. But I am a lioness. And as such, I must strike when opportunity strikes.

I lean forward before I speak. He follows my lead, and leans closer to me. "Of course I will, sweetling. Never question that. I will help you however I can." I finish with a light kiss to his hand. A gesture that fixes him, as he releases a heavy breath.

It isn't much, but I have worked with less before. I can maneuver this into my favor. He is my son, I know him better than anyone else. I sip my delicious arbor wine as plans begin to formulate in my mind. As I'm thinking, Draedon beckons Selmy over to his seat. He speaks lowly, so only the old knight can hear. Probably just letting the old man know that he is the one transporting the fat oaf's body.

I ignore their conversation, and turn back to my meal of triumph and sink my teeth into a potato. I can't help the smile that follows.

 **Doran POV**

As I am making inquiries to send out to my bannermen, Oberyn graces me with his presence. He has a smile that personifies his viper namesake. His smile is dripping with venom, as if preparing to strike an unsuspecting victim.

"What can I do fo-" He cuts me off before I can even finish my question.

"He has died, brother. He is finally dead." I lift my eyes to see him almost leap with joy by the end of his statement. I turn back to the parchment on my desk to continue writing.

"Who has died, Oberyn?" I ask slowly, something I do not think my brother would be capable of doing. He walks over to my wine and quickly pours a cup for himself.

"We should celebrate. A feast should be held on this night, every year for the rest of your rule." He finishes his first cup quickly and pours himself a second cup. His smile has yet to leave his face. It is beginning to frighten me that he still has that smile.

I put my quill down and stare at him. "Focus, Oberyn. Who has died and why should we be celebrating?" He walks over to me and places a cup of wine down beside my letters.

Oberyn sets his goblet down and pulls a rolled up piece of parchment from his breast pocket. He clears his throat, as his eyes land on the now unfolded parchment. "It is on this day that we announce Robert of the house Baratheon, First of his name, King of the Andals and of the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, has perished in an most unexpected hunting accident." His smile grows, while my brow furrows in deep thought.

Robert Baratheon is dead? An unexpected hunting accident? All of my planning and scheming since Elia's death, has been for naught. I did not even have to do anything, the fat drunkard was his own undoing. I could have focused my entire attention on Tywin and his mad dog.

Oberyn snaps his fingers directly in front of my face to gain my attention. His dark eyes alight with glee. "Did you not hear me, Doran? One of the people that hurt Elia is dead. The man who denied us justice and stepped over the bodies of our niece and nephew to usurp their rightful throne." Beginning to lean over my desk to get closer to me. "We can strike while they are in turmoil and despair. While they are weak, we can end this fucking travesty before it gets worse." He brings his fist down on to my desk, hard enough for my goblet to jump off of it just a bit.

I look Oberyn directly in his dark viper eyes. "We will strike, brother, believe me." His smile is that of a predator about to pounce on its prey. "But not yet." His smile drops quickly.

"What do you mean 'not yet'? This is the best opportunity to strike that we have ever had and you do not want to? Is this a joke?" He asks in quick succession of one another, each getting more incredulous than the last.

"What do you know of the boy? His son, the one that is going to take his place." I ask calmly. He blinks at me like an owl would.

He scoffs as my words finally click in his mind. "I know he is boy, one that is untested in the manner of war. One that can easily be dealt with." His carelessness of the situation is concerning.

"So you know nothing of your enemy, and you want to just charge in with brute strength without even thinking of the consequences? That is arguably the worst idea you have ever had, brother."

"So what? We wait for ten more years to exact revenge on the people that have continued to wrong our family?" His eyes shine like black fire, so much intensity that it is difficult to look into for too long.

"Oberyn, allow me to deal with this. I have always been the one to think things through, so let me do what I am best at." Our eyes clash once again. "We will make our enemies beg for mercy at the end of our spears, but I need time to construct a plan. So allow me that time, and put your trust in me for this, okay?" He continues to peer into my eyes, before his shoulders slump and he sighs.

"I trust you, Doran. Think on your plan and let me know what you decide for our course of action." He finishes with a small smile, before it grows even more. "While you do that, I am going to go and drink my fill of in, and take my paramour, and perhaps a few others, to my bed for a very good night. So I will leave you to it then." He exits my solar rather hurriedly, leaving me alone with my thoughts. "Have a nice night, brother." He calls out as he leaves for his nightly adventures.

I shake my head at my brother's antics. I begin to think of a plan as I go back to writing my inquiries. It takes me a few minutes but my mind finally clears enough to think straightly. It takes me a few minutes of pondering to formulate a plan. I release a heavy sigh, as if I follow through with this hastened plan, it will set my family on far different path than what I have ever intended us to be on, but it could be the best thing for us. I will have to think this through to be sure that it is the right action to take.

Until then, I grab a new piece of parchment and smooth it out. I dip my quill in the inkpot, and begin to scribble a new letter. One addressed to the Seven Kingdoms future Lord. A letter of condolences for his loss, perhaps he will be easier to communicate with than his fool of a father.

 **Davos POV**

The room is tense. So full of tension that it could be cut with a knife. Lord Stannis is silent and he reads the same letter for what seems like the hundredth time. We are sitting in the War Room, the room that contains the new Painted Table, inside of the colossal tower here in Storm's End. The Red Witch is staring into the flames of the brazier. Maester Cressen is constantly changing between glaring at the woman and glancing perturbedly at Lord Stannis.

The room is quiet, so quiet that the flames crackling sound as loud as a child screaming directly into your ear. The grinding of my Lord's teeth does not help the matter. I am patiently waiting for him to speak and give me my orders. I need to know what to expect in the near future.

The parchment glides across the Painted Table that separates the occupants of the room. It gains the attention of Melisandre, who finally turns away from her precious flames, her gaze fixed solely on Stannis.

"Robert is dead." Stannis states simply. We all have heard this already, but no one speaks up and interrupts him. "The current Hand has asked me to return to King's Landing, so that I can take my place on the future King's small council." We all process this new information. He is quiet for a few more moments. "My only true born nephew will sit atop the throne, with his mother whispering lies in his ear. Polluting his mind with deceit and false niceties. That will happen if we do not stop it, but I am sure that if I travel back to King's Landing, I will die, same as Jon Arryn. So does my esteemed advisors have any ideas?" Tension still heavy in the room, I am not quick to speak. Melisandre turns back to the brazier with no answer for him.

Maester Cressen is the first to speak. "The risk is too great for you to go back to the lion's den. I hate to say it but the boy will have deal with his own problems, and learn who to trust in his lifetime by himself. You can not be there to hold his hand at every step, my Lord, he has got to grow up quickly now that he is King." Stannis' dour expression does not change as he listens to the older man that has been with him his entire life.

The Red Witch turns away from the fire and back to our impassive Lord. "The Lord of Light has yet to show the boy to me. I do not know what will happen with him, or to you if you go back, for that matter. But you have a purpose for our Lord, a purpose as his champion. You are Azor Ahai reborn, you can not put yourself into more risk than you already are in."

Stannis frowns and turns and looks to me now. Internally, I take a heavy breath before I speak. "It would be unwise for you to go back to King's Landing." His frown becomes even more prominent on his stern face. "But perhaps sending someone to help keep an eye out for him. Someone to help watch over him and keep you informed on what moves are being made in the capital." Stannis stares at me, before he nods in acknowledgement.

"I believe that would raise suspicion. If some person turns up in the Red Keep suddenly, they would be held out of every conversation. Especially if they hold any sort of relationship to Lord Stannis." Cressen speaks methodically.

Stannis is staring at the Painted Table, grinding his teeth as a sign that he is thinking. He is showing no expression on his serious face. His large jaw moving slightly with each gnash of his teeth.

"We could send someone that they would never suspect. One that would not draw too much attention for his showing up." Stannis speaks slowly, still thinking most likely.

"Like who, my Lord?" Cressen asks with a downtrodden look. I suppose he does not like this idea.

Lord Stannis looks up from the table and towards me. "Davos," I look to the man that I owe everything to, "Draedon was friends with your boy, Maric, when he fostered here, correct?" I blink at the question.

"They were friends, my Lord. Maric and he still write to each other every other moon." As I speak, I move the fingers on my shortened hand.

"Would he be willing to do this for me?" Stannis asks.

"You wish to send the young son of a low born knight to King's Landing to spy on your nephew?" Cressen is unquestionably skeptical, as he spits the question out at Stannis.

"No, Maester Cressen. That is not what I want." Stannis speaks calmly as he turns to the old Maester. "I wish to send my grieving nephew a friend he is known to communicate with. A person who is there for moral support in his time of need. A person no one would think twice about since he would be there for a specific reason." It is a very solid, thought out scheme. "And like you said, Cressen, he is young, right around my nephew's age. No one is going to take the boy as a threat."

"He would be happy to do it, my Lord. He has been wanting to go see Prince Draedon for some time now, and now he will have the resources to go." I say as I drum my uncut fingers on the table. "Give me leave, and I shall go retrieve Maric so that he can be informed of the plan."

"Yes, go, Davos. Go get your boy. Hastily." Stannis gives me a parting nod, same as Cressen. The woman just stares at me as I leave the room.

As I close the door, I lean against it. Taking a deep breath, I begin my trek down to the docks, where I am sure to find my son. I am glad that he is getting this opportunity. I am so grateful that I smuggled that food into Storm's End all those years ago. Had I not done that, Maric would not be friends with the Prince. My sons would not have had as good of a life that they have had thus far.

I make it to the docks and to the _Fury_ , Lord Stannis' ship that my boy works on. I can see him on the deck of the ship, leaning over the railing so he has a good view of the hull. Something makes him look up to where I am on the boardwalk. His amber eyes land on me, and it only takes a second for him to recognize me. He smiles and nods in greeting. I beckon him over with a wave of my hand. His smile drops slowly, and he begins to make his way over to me. His sandy brown hair is dripping droplets of sweat. The heat of the summer day has made him take his shirt off earlier in the sunlight. His lithe body does not show his true strength.

Being an oarsmen has made him strong, easily the strongest of all my sons. He makes his way to me with caution in each of his steps, as if I am going to attack as soon as he gets close.

"Hello, father. Has something happened to mother, or one of my brothers?" His worry is evident in his voice. I smile lightly and clamp my hand down on his firm shoulder.

"No, nothing of the sort, son. Everyone is fine, I promise." He deflates at my casualness of the situation, and smiles to show his worry is gone. "Some good news for you. Lord Stannis has a task for you, actually." His brows raise in Surprise and his smile grows even more pronounced. He is always wanting to prove his worth to our Lord. "So throw a tunic on and we will make our way up there, so he can tell you everything himself." He smiles and jogs back to the ship.

I smile at his excitement, I can not wait to see his reaction when he is told that he is going to the capital. I just do not know if he is ready for what he is being sent into. King's Landing is poisoned, and he will have to be very careful about what he says and does, but this will help him understand the world beyond ships and docks. I just wish I could help him more.

I see him with a tunic on and making his way back to me, a smile still on his face. I hope that this is an good decision for my son. I hope he can do what is asked of him. And with that last thought, I put a smile on my face and place a hand on his back when he gets to me. We begin our walk back to the War Room, to Maric's future.


	7. The Breaking of Dawn

**A/N: Another chapter for your viewing enjoyment. Hopefully this was out quick enough for you not to hate me.**

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 **Draedon POV**

I hate that I am used to this feeling now. This feeling of being powerless. Of being weak.

I hate it.

First Jon Arryn, then Joffrey, and now my own father. All mine to protect, and I failed. I failed them all.

The sad thing is that I am so used to feeling this way now, that I feel awkward when I do not feel like this. When I feel something new. Although, there is one emotion that almost overpowers the rest. Anger. I have so much anger that I do not even feel anything else but that, and it is a strange sensation. But not one that I can get used to. I have to get rid of it before it makes me do something that I will regret.

So that is why I am here on the training ground now, instead of preparing for my own crowning that takes place on the morrow. Trying to release this feeling of hatred and anger.

I clench my teeth and thrust my bastard sword at my target, only for it to sidestep out of my reach. I continue my movements and swing it to the side, just to get caught on the steel of my target's blade. I get shoved back, and I can feel my body beginning to burn from over exertion. We have been at this for close to two hours, and my movements have only gotten sloppier since we started. My eyes are blurred and my movements hurried, as my anger is eating away at me. I can barely see clearly, but I know that I can not stop my attack. My opponent can not see my weakness.

I swing as hard as I can in an overhead swing, that gets easily deflected. I parry the swing that is aimed at my side by my opponent. I spin to my left, and aim low, only to get kicked to the ground. I twist my body so that my side takes the brunt of the damage, which turns out to be a horrible decision, as my ribs smash into the ground very painfully. I can feel the air leave my body, and all I want to do is cry out, but I doubt that any sound would come. I try to get up from the ground, but I can not. I just can't.

My target kicks my sword out of my hand and far away from me. He sheaths his own sword while he stares down at me. No emotion shows on his face, but his eyes gives away his concern. As minor as it is, it is still there.

"Are you hurt, Your Grace?" He asks me gradually. I look into his eyes and just continue to wheeze. He smirks down at me.

"Fuck you, Sandor." I croak out at his stupid smirk. If anything, my words just make it grow even more.

"That is the response I was looking for." He just towers over me as I turn to lay on my stomach, but is looking up at the sky. "But we are done for the day."

"No." I try to say with as much conviction as possible, which isn't much. "Not until I win." He does not even turn to me when he speaks.

"You have only truly beat me just a few times, and I do not see it happening again today. Besides, it is about time for you to stop. Your coronation is on the morrow and we do not need the new King so battered and broken that when he kneels for the crown to be placed on his head, he never rises again due to being too weak."

"Then I will stand for the crowning so that that may never happen." I speak slowly, as my lungs regain breath even slower.

"Then your weak fucking knees will buckle beneath you." He laughs deeply.

"I do not care for your words, Sandor. It is your steel that is asked for, not your damn advice." As I finish the sentence, I lunge for the sword in his sheathe.

My attempt is halted rather quickly, when a swift knee connects with my already weakened and battered ribs. Pain wracks my entire body and I drop like a stone to the ground.

"We are done for the day." Sandor speaks down to my prone body. "You need a bath and to get dressed."

"Not until I win." I say in an uneven tone, as I try to steady my breathing. Sandor just stares at me.

"Is this really about winning a spar, your grace? Or is it something else?" I look away as his burned face never leaves my form.

I push myself onto all four of my limbs, ribs burning like wildfire. "I have to win. I have to get stronger." I choke back the tears that are threatening to fall from my stupid weak eyes.

Silence is his reply. At first, I hear nothing, not even his breath. If I did not know any better, I would have thought that he left, but I never heard his footsteps so I know he is just standing there; staring at me. Seconds go by before something happens. Sandor takes a few steps towards me and kneels in front of me. I hear a sigh leave his mouth, before a hand rests on my back.

"Draedon, I understand that you are hurting. You have had a few rough moons, I acknowledge that, but at the same time you have to understand something." My watery blue eyes meet his sharp grey ones. "Sometimes people just fucking die. You have to accept that and move on."

"It is not just their deaths, Sandor." I almost roar at him. If I startled him, he doesn't allow it to show on his scarred face. "This weight now rests on my chest..." I pause, as I try to right my breathing. "And it is crushing, Sandor." His name, just a whisper as it passes my lips. "One million people, in this city alone, are now looking at me for guidance. All the men, women, and children of the Seven Kingdoms are looking at me, are depending on me to get them through the dark times, and I am not ready for it." Sandor is quiet through my rant, staying by my side loyally, just like his namesake. "I mean, how in the Seven Hells am I supposed to be ready for it, when I do not even have my own advisors? Or Kingsguards members that I trust?"

Sandor cocks his unmarred brow at me. "Do you think your father was ready by for being King? No, he was not. Nobody would ever be ready for shit like this, Draedon. But you are the one that has been preparing for this. You are the one that is closest to being ready. And in a few years, you will look back at this moment and scoff at how much of a craven you were."

I smile at that before it falls again. He stands to his full height and turns to look around us, to see who is there. He kneels back down to my level. "As for the White Cloaks, they can always be replaced." His raspy voice carries significantly through the air.

I scoff at his words. "The Kingsguard is for life, you can not just release them, Sandor." I condescendingly say to him, in a hushed tone.

"Not released, Draedon." His grey eyes peering deep into my own blue ones, cutting deep into me. As if he peering into my own soul. "Replaced."

 **Sansa POV**

Ever since the bells have rung to signify that the King has died, there has been a somber feeling throughout the capital, especially in the Red Keep. Father is frantically scurrying around for reasons unknown to his children. He seems especially worried about something, but when asked about it, he just shakes his head and tells us it is not our concern. Arya and myself still try to get it out of him, but he has yet to release anything to us.

Speaking of Arya, she has really been deep into her dance lessons. I hear her in her room at night, practicing. She falls a lot and hurts herself, which leads me to believe she is exceptionally terrible at it. Which makes me smile some, to know I am still better than her at being a lady.

But it also makes me realize how empty my life is. A few months ago, I was betrothed to a Prince, I had Lady to keep me company at all times, and everything seemed to be great. And then everything became terrible. Now the only company from home that I have consistently is Jeyne and Septa Mordane.

I miss Winterfell, my home. I miss my mother. I miss Robb. I miss Bran and Rickon. I just miss everyone from there. I miss the snow that falls and the way it builds on the ground. I try to remedy this feeling in my chest when I think of home, by going to the Godswood here in the Red Keep. Jeyne usually accompanies me there, just like she is today.

Father made two guards follow us there, I suppose to make sure we do not get attacked. Jeyne and I make small talk on our walk there, while the guards are about ten paces behind us. We finally make it to the Godswood, but see an unexpected sight when we enter it.

Sitting on a bench, with his head in his hands, is the Crown Prince. Well, I think he's the new King now actually. I see the Hound standing off to the side, he looks at us for a brief moment before he turns his attention to the guards behind us, he then places his hand on his sword. Our guards do the same and the three of them just stare at each other. The Prince looks at the Hound, but turns his blue eyes in our direction.

He stands immediately. "My Ladies, I was not expecting to see you." He bowed to us, face flushed with a tight smile on his face.

Jeyne and I curtsy back to him. "It's our fault, your grace. We did not think anybody would be here." I answer for the both of us, while Jeyne smiles shyly and blushes furiously.

He turns towards his guard and shakes his head lightly. The Hound releases his grip on his sword, but continues to stare at my guards. The Prince releases a heavy breath, followed by a small chuckle.

"I have to apologize for Sandor, he is a bit untrusting of people. Especially people with swords." He flashes a beautiful smile of perfect teeth. I can only look away with a blush on my face, same as Jeyne. "I do not believe that we have formally met, so please allow me to properly introduce myself."

He takes just a few strides to cover the distance between him and us. I can hear Jeyne's breath hitch as he nears. He flashes another dazzling smile, before he bows once more and offers his hand to me. I immediately place my hand on his.

"I am Draedon Baratheon, first born son of Robert and Cersei Baratheon. And I apologize that it took this long to finally make your acquaintance, Lady Stark." He gently places his lips to make knuckles, and I feel my knees become weak. I can feel my face burning as hotly as a hearth in winter.

"It is a pleasure to meet you as well, your grace." He smiles and drops my hand, and I instantly wish that he didn't release it. He turns his attention to Jeyne and moves in front of her.

He bows to her and offers his hand, which she accepts straightaway. He brushes her knuckles with his lips, like he did with me.

"I am deeply saddened that I have never met a beauty such as you before now, my Lady." Jeyne smiles brightly with a face as red as my hair. She curtsies to him and mumbles her greetings. If Septa Mordane were here, she would be most displeased with Jeyne's actions.

The Prince turns his gaze back on me and releases a deep breath, before he takes a step back towards the bench. He throws a brief glance towards the Hound before his vision is back on us.

"Lady Stark, I know that it is a bit past due, but I would like to offer my condolences for the loss of your direwolf. Her name was Lady, if I can remember right." His sapphire eyes are staring at me with a questioning gaze.

I nod my head slowly. "It is very understandable, your grace. You were going through the pain of losing a loved one as well. So I'd like to offer my condolences to you, not just for King Robert," I shudder a breath just thinking about the next words. "But for Prince Joffrey as well." I give a tight lipped smile.

The future King tilts his head to one side, closes his eyes, and releases a breath. He opens them again, "This was no chance meeting, my Ladies, I must confess. You see I needed an excuse to speak to you, and what better way than by running into you." He smiles a smile that warms my heart. "I needed to meet you, and offer my condolences. Hopefully, help create a relationship that will last for decades." When he spoke the last part, he used over exaggerated hand gestures that I could not help but to giggle at.

"But now I am curious about something." I nod for him to continue. "What do you come here for? For prayer? For the peace? Or, perhaps, because you miss your home?" Surprisingly, Jeyne answers.

"I come for prayer, while she is here for the last reason." She began to trail off as soon as the Prince's gaze was upon her. She blushed once again and looks to her feet. The Prince just smiles once again.

"So for prayer and for home." He nods his head as he speaks. "Tell me about Winterfell, I mean if you have the time." His eyes are just so captivating, that all I can do is smile and nod.

His smile grows even larger, before he abruptly spins on his heel and walks away. I did not understand what he was doing until he sat on the bench that he was on when we came here. He pats the spots on both sides of him, that large smile still on his face. Jeyne all but runs to the spot on his left, but I was taught better than that. No matter the excitement that I feel in my chest, I casually walk to the spot on his right and sit down.

And so for the next hour, Jeyne and I told the Prince all about Winterfell. About some of our fondest memories of home. We spoke about our families, and the huge Weirwood tree located in the Godswood. We talked about the hot springs underneath the keep. About lessons from Septa Mordane and even about Jeyne's father, Vayon. The Prince never once looked uninterested. In fact, he was the one who kept asking questions. All with a smile on his face.

"I must visit Winterfell some time soon. It sounds like an amazing experience." I almost squealed with joy when he said that. "But King's Landing is just as spectacular as Winterfell, especially with the proper guide. It would have to be a person that was born here. Someone who knows the nicest areas. Someone who is named Baratheon." His finger tapping his chin, as if he's thinking about something.

"So you are a proper guide then, your grace?" Jeyne asks him, with a small smile on her face.

"Oh, well I guess I am. Would you look at that. Well if you Ladies would like a tour of the city someday, then I would be happy to oblige you in that endeavor." He says with a bright smile that lit up the entire Godswood it seemed.

I look at Jeyne, who is staring at me with pleading eyes. "Well, your grace, if you have the time now, we would love to have that tour." Jeyne nods enthusiastically at him, while he continues to smile.

"Well if that's what you two want, then who am I to deny you that." He stands from the bench and offers his arms to us, which Jeyne immediately accepts. I accept it as well, but with more grace than Jeyne.

We begin walking towards the exit, while the guards came with us fall behind the us. The Hound follows us too, farther behind than our guards.

"First stop, the Sept of Baelor." The Prince begins with the tour and I smile.

I feel so happy being in his company. I haven't smiled this much since Lady died. But all it took is one conversation with the Prince to make me forget about everything. To make me not miss home so much. I can get used to the South if I can build a relationship with the Prince.

 **Cersei POV**

"Why were you escorting the Stark girl through the city?" I ask my eldest cub, who doesn't even look my way, or away from his own reflection.

He tilts his head side to side. "Do you think that I should cut my hair?" He grips his hair and draws it to the front of his white tunic. His dark mane contrasts beautifully with the pure white tunic that he is wearing. Myrcella is combing it while he stands there in front of the mirror in his room. She can barely reach his hair, due to the height difference between them. So one of the handmaidens placed a stool down for her to stand on.

"Do not ignore me, Draedon. I asked a question, I expect an answer, especially from my children." Myrcella looks at me when I say this, I match her look with a raised eyebrow of my own. She looks away with a small blush on her face from being caught looking.

Draedon looks at me using the mirror, so as to not enact the ire of his little sister, most like. My children's tight relationship warms my heart. "I believe you answered your own question, mother. I was escorting her through the city, just like you said." He smirks at me. He has the audacity to smirk at me. My cheeky little cub.

"Do not pretend to be ignorant. Why were you doing that in the first place, Draedon?" He continues to stare at me using the mirror, before he releases a chuckle.

"Cella, I think it's time for you to leave." She gasps, before poking out her bottom lip at him before turning it towards me. I only stare at her for a few seconds until she understands that I'm not backing down on this. She turns back to her brother with the same look. He breaks almost immediately. "We can finish this later, so please leave. I will find you as soon as me and mother are done speaking. Promise."

Myrcella stops pouting and starts smiling as she leaves the room gracefully. As soon as the door closes, Draedon's smile drops from his handsome face. The frown that lines his face makes him seem older than he really is. Although I am glad that he shows how he truly feels around me now, I just wish it was a different emotion that I see from him. Something has to change, I want my little cub back.

"Father and Lord Stark were brothers, in all but blood. At least that is how father explained it." He walks over to his table and pours himself a cup of water. "I did not travel to Winterfell with you, so I never had a chance to bond with Lord Stark's son. I do not have that reassurance that when he takes over, he will stay true and loyal to the crown. So I have to make that bond with Sansa. If a few smiles and a tour of her new city secures that, I do not see an issue with that, mother"

He takes a piece of raw meat from a plate in the center of the table, and throws it to his monstrous beast that lays out on his balcony. The beast chews it in just a few bites, and it disgusts me to watch it happen. Draedon just smiles as he watches.

"Why do you keep that filthy mongrel?" I ask, harsher than I meant to be.

He turns to look at me. His eyes pierce me. "Ruby is not a filthy mongrel. She is much more than any pet as well." He walks over to the man eating beast and begins to rub it behind its ears. "She my best friend, my fiercest ally. She is my strength through the tough nights." He sits on the ground beside the beast, and leans his back on it. All the while, rubbing it continuously. I can hear the damn monster begin to purr as he rests his head on its back. "So please refrain from insulting her while in my company."

I can only stand there silently as he relaxes on his pet. I hate that he loves the monster. I wish he could see the danger that it could bring if it gets loose from his keeping. It could harm Myrcella or Tommen, or worse, it could kill them. Perhaps I could think of something that will make Draedon get rid of it. But we have more important topics to discuss than the mongrel he calls Ruby.

"Draedon, we have something else to talk about." He tilts his head at my statement, his hair moving with the motion and falling in front of his face. "You will be crowned soon," his expression darkens at the mention of the word, "which means that you will have to take a wife soon as well. We should talk about your best choices for marriage." His right eye twitches at the word 'marriage'. "Do you have anyone in mind that you feel partial to already?"

My son just stares at me for a moment, before he sighs and runs a hand through his long hair. "To be completely honest, mother, I have not exactly given it a lot of thought." He shrugs his broad shoulders, before he smirks at me. "But I suppose Sansa is as good a choice as any." He smirk turns into a large grin when he sees my narrowed eyes. "She really is a pretty girl. Our children would be absolutely adorable. What, with their auburn hair and bright blue eyes, can you not just imagine it, mother?" I can imagine it, and I do not appreciate the image.

"She is a choice, that is for sure, but perhaps there is a better one out there." He smiles and nods his head.

"Perhaps there is." His smile loses its mirth, as he begins to really think. "There is Margaery Tyrell, I suppose." He shrugs and I grimace at the thought. I do not like the girl, not one bit. She would try to take my cub away from me, take the power that I have acquired, fom years of suffering Robert and his asinine behavior. I do not like that. "There is Arianne Martell, too. But I doubt that she, or her family, would be very receptive to the idea of marriage into our family."

I agree with that statement, wholeheartedly. I can not imagine that the Martells would like the idea too much. "The promise of power makes people do strange things, Draedon." He looks at me with a strange look in his eyes.

"So I will not know if my future wife is marrying me for me, or for the crown." I chuckle lightly at him. He blinks at me in surprise. "Is there something amusing, mother?"

"They will marry you for the crown, Draedon, no question about it. I am sorry, but that is the way it is." He looks down to the floor, a sorrowful sigh leaves his lips.

"I do not want to believe that, mother. But I can not help but to think that you are right." I feel bad for making my darling son sad, but he needs to know the truth about things. Even as King, life will not be as good as he wishes.

"What about your cousin, Rosamund? She is a lovely girl. Very sweet, and caring." I try to change his attitude. He blinks at me.

"Rosamund? She is three years younger than me, mother." His eyes have widen a bit as he thinks.

"I have already checked to make sure, she has had her moon's blood. So she is old enough to marry." I am gripping at straws here. I just need a girl that I can control easily, and for all the good qualities that the girl has, she is extremely weak-willed. Just doing what she is told without question, something that can be easily exploited. "So has your cousin, Myrielle, as well. She is only a few months younger than you too, so it will be more comfortable for you to marry her."

"I will keep that in mind, mother." He shakes his head at me slightly. I know he will not think about them unless they are right in front of him, so I have to write to the Rock and get them here. That shouldn't be tricky. "Actually, mother, can we finish this discussion on a later day? I am tired of speaking about this, and I just want to relax." He rubs his temples for dramatic effect, I can only roll my eyes at his expressive body.

"Fine, sweetling. Relax and enjoy your last free night before you become weighed down with every problem in the Seven Kingdoms."

"Why would you say? I am scared enough already, I do not need you making it worse, mother." Scared prey is the easiest target, father taught me. Time for the kill.

"Draedon, calm down. It was supposed to be a joke, not a very good, I see now. But just a joke, so no worries, sweetling. I will help you with anything that you need me to help with, I promise that you not have to carry this burden yourself." I grasp his broad shoulders and kiss his brow.

"Thank you. I think I would lose my mind without you here, mother." I smile gently at my cub and stand up to leave.

"Oh, do not forget that Myrcella is coming back here as soon as I leave. Good luck." His eyes widen just a bit in remembrance of his tiny sister.

As soon as I pass through his door into hallway, I see Myrcella walking towards his room. I smile lightly at the sight. She smiles at me as we pass each other.

"He is waiting for you, dear." She smiles larger and almost runs into his room. I laugh as she enters his room.

I may have just solidified my power when he takes the throne. I may have picked out his future wife without Draedon even knowing what is happening. Today is a good day.

 **Draedon POV**

I do not like the attention, I do not like it one bit. I can feel their eyes on me; judging my worth to them. Vulnerability is the only emotion that I can feel this moment. I wish I could have brought Ruby with me, she would have kept me calm while I was up here.

I can see mother gazing at me fom her place at the front of the crowd. Myrcella standing by her with a smile on her face that just brightens up the room monumentally. I love seeing that smile, it is the best thing view in the world. It almost makes me smile whien I see it. But then I remember that there is a huge crowd of people behind her and this is a really serious moment in my life. I look further down the front of the crowd and spot Tommen, and see quite possibly the most bored expression on his chubby face. Another smile begins to tug at my lips, before I mercilessly beat it back.

I have been in this same position for close to the last half hour; kneeling in front of the Iron Throne. My seat that I will sit upon in court in the very near future. I have never really noticed how intimidating it truly is. Before this point, it was always just the chair in which my father sat, but now?

Now, it is the most terrifying thing that I have ever laid my eyes upon. It chills my spine everytime I see it. Father's side of the family made me tall, but in front of this iron monstrosity, I feel as if I am as small as a child. I wish I was a small child, it would be so simple then. I would be crowned still, but mother, whose dress I would hide behind when I became scared, would run the Kingdoms and I would be none the wiser about any problems in the world. But, alas, I am no child. I just feel like one.

I realize that while I have been kneeling here and spotting my remaining family members that are in attendance, I have not been listening to the heavily perfumed man that is conducting my coronation. He smells of lilacs. The scent is so strong that it almost brings tears to my eyes. I feel as if it is getting close to the end of his monologue, so I start listening, and at the most perfect time too.

"...May the Warrior grant him courage, and protect him in these perilous times. May the Smith grant him strength, that he might bear this heavy burden. And may the Crone, She that knows the fate of all men, show him the path he must walk, and guide him through the dark places that lie ahead. In the light of the Seven, I now proclaim Draedon of the House Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Long may he reign!" The High Septon places a heavy crown on my head, that rests rather tightly across my brow

"Long may he Reign!" The crowd yells after the High Septon places the crown on me.

It is not the crown my father wore, I made sure to send that with Barristan and Arys while they transported father's body to Storm's End, to be buried with him. No, the crown that rests on my head now, is entirely my own. It is made of a thick gold band, with antlers of a stag coming out the top. Just below the antlers, a single large obsidian stone surrounded by seven smaller sapphires adorn the band. I had it padded on the inside, so that it would rest more easily upon my brow.

The Great Hall resounds with claps and cheers from the overly large crowd. Tommen no longer looks bored, not when he is cheering louder than everyone else. Cella is clapping overexcitedly, but still lady like, something I did not know was even possible. Mother has her trademark smirk plastered on my beautiful face. The remaining Counsel members are clapping politely, but it is Lord Stark that draws my attention. He has stopped clapping far quicker than everyone else in the room. I can not get a solid read on the honorable man.

Mother and my siblings approach me, huge smiles on their soft faces. They latch on to me as soon as they are close enough to. Instinctively, I wrap them securely in my arms. Mother stands behind them as she watches the scene unfold, a gentle smile formed on her lips. When my siblings step away, mother gently takes my much bigger body into her arms. I feel so much better with her hugging me. I squeeze her slender frame much tighter than I did Tommen and Myrcella. She breaks the embrace first. When I pull back, she spins me towards my biggest remaining fear.

When my eyes land upon it, I almost break.

As I am pushed towards it, I fight back the tears that threaten to fall.

As I sit in it for the first time as the crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms, I do not fight to keep my tears back. Surprisingly, only one, lone tear falls. I am glad that it is only one, that is easy to hide from the crowd that has yet to move their eyes from me. I realize that I do not want them to see me weak and crying, I need them to see me as a strong man.

It is at this moment, that I realize, just how much of a child I still am.


	8. So It Begins

**Sandor POV**

It has been a hectic few days since I became the sworn sword of the King. And since Selmy and Oakheart have yet to return from Storm's End, his remaining Kingsguards have been steadily getting more and more tired from the long shifts. The King has graciously given his protectors the night off to recuperate and rest. I have been given the sole responsibility of protecting the King on this night, aside from his constant feline companion. They were hesitant to accept, but Draedon was very insistent and persuasive. This is what we have planned for, for this very moment in time.

I move silently through the White Sword Tower, where the four _knights_ are sleeping. I have to slowly walk up so that I do not make noise and wake them. My follower is doin his best to remain quiet, but he is not as good as I. I make him give me some space on our way up. Silence is my best ally at the moment, so I had to dress for the occasion. Dark wool tunic, so no heavy armor clanking about. Simple breeches and methodical steps make sure my boots make no more excruciatingly loud thuds on the ground. Heel to toe when you step, bend at the knees; that is the proper way to sneak.

I make it to the sleeping cells on the third floor of the tower. Two of the three cells hold bodies of the the sleeping _knights_ of the Kingsguard. I peer into the closest one and hear the calm resting breathing of Boros Blount. I have always wondered how hard his flat nose has to work to keep the short cunt alive, as it turns out, he breathes through his mouth at night. I should have known as much.

I look to my follower and motion for him to stop and wait outside. He halts and nods, nervously in fact, if I say so myself. I enter his cell and look down at his resting form. I pull my dagger out of my belt and ready it in my hand. I take a breath and when I do, he shifts in his cot.

I move quietly, and gently place my hand to his mouth. He begins to wake up, I can see the light haze that covers his eyes from the abrupt awakening. So I quickly plunge my dagger into his throat. He wakes up fully then and tries to fight me, but weakens with each passing second. I watch the life leave his eyes, as his blood rushes over my hand. Its warmth is very familiar to me.

When Boros the Belly finally stops twitching, I stand up fully. I walk out of his cell and look down to my clothing, my white tunic has turned the deep red of blood. I look at my follower, and see his widened eyes staring at my dyed clothing. I motion for him to pull his weapon out and prepare himself for possible threats. He nervously pulls a dagger, the dagger I gave him earlier this night, out of his belt and holds it loosely in his shaking hand.

I roll my eyes at the sight. I walk quietly to the next cell on this floor, but find it empty, it must be Oakheart's. Which means that the third and final cell on this floor level, will be filled with a warm body. I find Mandon Moore sleeping on the cot when I creep into the small room. I almost end his life, but I stop myself and step out of the room, and beckon my little follower over.

"Your turn to kill." I speak lowly to the boy. He looks confused at my words. "That is the deal. We do this together, blood on both of our hands." He bites his lower lip. "If you want the gold, take that dagger and slice his fucking throat." He whimpers lightly at my harsh tone, but moves to do as I said.

I watch him take slow, deliberate steps closer to Moore's sleeping form. His lithe body shaking with fear. I assume most men have that fear when they are about to take their first life. He stops and starts taking heavy breaths. I fear that Moore will wake up from the sound and that would mean that I failed my King.

Then, almost out of nowhere, the boy strikes. He pounces on the sleeping _knight_ and glides he dagger over his throat. The wound spurts the man's life force out ferociously. It sprays the boy and ruins his servant outfit. Moore, not one to die that easily, claws at the boy, ripping at his eyes, drawing blood of his own. He stumbles back out into the living area. He raises a shaky hand and touches his gaunt face, his blonde hair dripping the red droplets of blood. He feels his eye and the small amount of blood that is coming from the marks.

He pulls his hand away, now painted as red as Moore's entire body. He sees the blood on his hand and just stares it for a few moments. I can not tell if it is his blood, or Moore's. A smile splits his face, it appears he likes the thrill of taking the life of another. He turns to me with a new expression, one that replaces his nervous disposition he held earlier. He is anxious for the next kill, I can see it in his blue eyes.

I motion for the boy to follow upstairs to the next floor, to where the remaining two _knights_ are. He nods almost giddily at me. We cover the distance from the dead bodies to the sleeping ones rather quickly. Taking two stairs at a time, as quietly as we can. We finally make it to the top of stairway; to the fourth floor. I look back to the stairs, and see two sets of bloody boot prints.

I nod my head over to the lone cell on the right side of the wall, the still grinning boy nods and begins to walk silently to it. I turn my attention to the other side of the room, and begin to prowl towards my prey, much like a hound would a fox. The cell I enter turns out to be that of the droopy eyed cunt, Meryn Trant. I can only smile at my luck, I would much rather kill Trant over Greenfield. Not that I would not kill Greenfield, but I fucking hate Trant much more than his brother in arms.

I have waited for this moment for a few years now. I ready my dagger and gently press it to his throat, his red beard hair laying on the blade slightly. I press it deeper into his skin deeper, cutting him faintly, blood droplets dripping slowly down his neck. The pressure of the blade or the pain of it digging into him awakens him. His eyes immediately focus on me, fear evident in them. His mouth opening in confusion, about to ask me what in the Seven Hells do I think I am doing. So I stop him before he can speak.

I push the dagger in deeper and slide it across his throat. Blood rushes from the fresh opening and he gurgles the words he was going to speak. I press it even deeper into the cunt's throat and slice through more of his flesh. I do not realize how long I do it until I stop and stand to see just what the cell looks like, what his corpse looks like.

I had cut, I suppose saw would be the better term for what I had done to him, I had sawed his throat all the way to his spine. Which is actually kind of funny, since I had always thought he was as spineless as any person could be. I leave the cell and see my little follower already waiting on me, fresh blood on his clothes and hands. Bloody smile still on his face.

"Ser Preston is dead. I slit his throat." He says it with joy in his voice. He approaches me in the center of the open room. "So do I get my pay now?"

I stare at the boy long and hard. I smirk at his eagerness. "The King thanks you for your service." I untie a coin bag from my belt, and toss it to the boy. He catches it with ease. He slips his bloody dagger back into his belt and opens the pouch. Confusion litters his face.

"This does not seem right. It only looks like a few hundred."

"Five hundred gold dragons." I say simply. He looks at me with even more confusion. I sigh. "The King truly appreciates what you have done here on this night. Everything you have done," I place my hand on his shoulder and look him in his puzzled eyes. "And for everything that you have yet to do." His eyes widen just a touch before I drive my dagger into his gut. I twist the blade as blood begins to leak from his mouth. The fear is clear in his eyes, ashis breathing becomes labored.

I push it upwards from his stomach to his heart, making sure when he drops, he stays there. I rip it out of his body and push him to the ground. I look at his prone body and watch the blood pour out of him. I crouch down and check to see if he is breathing; he is not. I pull his dagger out of his belt and toss it close to the body, so it looks like he dropped it. I turn around and head for the stairs. I have to get back to the King. It is going to be a long night.

 **Draedon POV**

"So I have no Kingsguards alive in the city, there are only three spots filled on my Small Council, and I am only in the first week of my reign. Any comments or suggestions on how to fix something wrong here?" I look around the table to my _esteemed_ council. Silence is all that answers my question. "Just speak if you have one."

Varys looks at me. "Letters can be written and sent out to inform people of the open spots that need to be filled with knights on the Kingsguard. I can have them written and sent by this night, if it pleases, Your Grace." His soft voice carries over the table easily.

I nod. "See it done, Lord Varys." He bows his head in acknowledgement at my request. "Any suggestions about new Council members?" Pycelle turns his head in my direction, chain jingling around his neck.

The ancient man finally speaks after a few moments of silence. "Your grandfather, Lord Tywin, is the best choice for your Hand. He has years of experience at the position, the only person in the Seven Kingdoms that is able to say that." He finally finishes his statement. It is a very logical thought.

I sigh. "Bring me a piece of parchment and an inkwell, so that I may write to Lord Stannis, recalling him back to King's Landing. Until responses come back, we will leave it at this. How are the Crown's financial situation, Lord Baelish?" I look to the slender man.

"We have six million in debt total. Three million to Lord Tywin, one million to the Faith, and two million scattered around between the Tyrells, the Iron Bank, and a few Tyroshi trading cartels." He strokes his pointed goatee as he speaks.

I can only rub my head as I listen to the list of people who I now owe gold to. I can feel an ache coming from the stress of my new responsibilities. I need to think of a way to lower this debt, and quickly.

"Lord Baelish, I would like to see the books. Send them to my room as soon as possible." He looks at me in surprise at first, before it changes to his usual smirk.

"Are you sure, Your Grace? It is just numbers on dusty pages of some books." I can only stare at the small man. His grey-green eyes staring back at me.

I blink a single time. "Yes, Lord Baelish. I am quite sure." I say calmly.

He looks away from me. "I will have it done at once, Your Grace." He bows his head.

"Good. Is there anything else of import that I need to know, or can we conclude this council meeting?" I ask openly to the members at the table. Silence reigns for a few moments, eyes look towards the Spider.

"Your Grace, there is one message." I look at the eunuch, his soft eyes staring at my own. "As you know, Lord Renly left the capital a day after your father died, and traveled in the direction of Highgarden, with Ser Loras Tyrell in tow." I nod my head in recognition of the actions of my uncle. "It appears that the Lords of the Reach have thrown their support behind him, and have begun to rally their banners."

"Does these Lords include the Tyrells?" I ask curiously.

He smiles strangely. "Yes, Your Grace, it does." He speaks in his high pitched voice. "Although, Lord Willas Tyrell is not among them. He has disappeared in the night with some of his hawks and hounds, with a small group of men to guard him on his travels." He finishes.

I look at the table for a moment, before turning back to him. "And where is Willas? Or where is he going?"

"I have no idea as to where he is, but he was last seen traveling on the Roseroad, before sightings have stopped." He finishes with a small smile.

I nodded my head at him. "So, where does this leave us?"

"I propose we wait to see if he turns up somewhere unexpected." Grand Maester Pycelle says slowly, which is normal for him.

"I meant about Renly, Grand Maester. But thank you for your input." I nod my head towards the old man. His cheeks begins to turn red underneath his thick white beard.

Varys looks around the table before looking at me. "Lord Renly appears to have intentions to stake a claim to the throne." He finishes in his soft voice.

"He is third in line for the throne." I say simply. "What is this supposed to mean exactly?" The council members bow their heads, or otherwise avert their eyes away from me. Varys takes a breath before speaking words that I know he is going to say.

"War is coming." Varys says firmly.

My heart plummets into my stomach at his words. Knowing what is going to be said, and hearing them are two very different feelings.

"So it is." I say slowly. I stand to leave the room. "Write to Tywin and the Stark boy, tell them to ready their respective forces to protect their King." I walk out of the door and the meeting. I barely notice when Sandor falls in place behind me, as I walk in no particular direction.

As I walk, I think of what is happening as of right now. I have war happening between the Lannisters and the Starks, with the Riverlands being razed because of it. The North has rallied behind Eddard's oldest son, who is leading the army for now, while Lord Stark will being leaving a few days time to join them and take over as the head of the army. It has been arranged for Lord Stark and his youngest daughter to leave on a ship set on course for White Harbor in just a few days time. Most of his guard will leave with him, only a handful of guards will stay to protect Sansa. Her friend, Jeyne and her father will stay here as well.

Can the Starks and Lannisters fight with each other, or is it only against each other?

With the North and the Westerlands at each other's throats in the Riverlands, and the Reach rising up in the South, the next few moons will surely dictate how my reign will be viewed. How I handle these situations will show the people what kind of King, what kind of person, I truly am.

I am taken from my thoughts when I realize that I am standing in the Throne Room. Only myself, Sandor, and the iron monstrosity are inside the room. It is as if my eyes are being pulled towards it without my consent, because I feel compelled to look at it. I begin to count the swords as I unwillingly peer at it. I make it all the way to fifty swords, before I realize that I have been creeping towards the seat of power, and I have made it to the stairs that hoist the great seat above all else. I slowly take each step with great pause. I vaguely hear Sandor call for me.

Slowly, I make my way to the top of the stairs, all the while, never taking my eyes off of the hauntingly beautiful creation. When I reach the top, I begin to saunter towards my throne. I lower my hand to lay on the armrest of it. I feel the sharp edges of the swords that my hand rests upon. The rough texture of the iron blade raises the hair on my arms as I rub it. The edge of the blade slices my finger slightly, drawing blood out of the small incision.

I gingerly turn my back to my throne and look out over the empty room. Before I noticed it happening, I am firmly planted on the uncushioned seat. I lean into the uncomfortable backrest, my back conforming to the throne's design. And in that moment, everything becomes dulled. The thoughts of war, the fear I feel, everything. In that moment, I am at peace.

I look to where Sandor stands dutifully at the base of the steps, staring at me. He begins smirking at me, I can only imagine what he is thinking. I half expect mother to walk through the door and smile at me, for finally realizing the power I sit on, that I now have in the palm of my hands.

This feeling scares me, I am not used to feeling like this. This feeling of being in power, it is foreign to me. I do not know if I like it, maybe I could get used to this feeling, like I am used to feeling weak. So this strange sensation is how I could feel all the time, I just have to accept this. Accept my position in the Kingdoms, accept my position as King.

As I stare out into the empty room, the first true look I have ever given from here, and I realize something. I realize that I like this view. That I want this view for many years to come. That I will do anything to keep this throne in my possession. If Renly wants to lay a claim to it, that will be fine. But he will not take it from me, I refuse to give my throne up to a fucking pillow biter, of all people.

So if it is war that Renly wants, then it is war that he will get.

 **Barristan POV**

I can only ignore the words that are coming from the Septon, as I watch the dirt as it tossed onto the finished grave of the latest King that I swore my life to. He marks the third King that I have served, while his son will be the fourth, and I pray that he will be the final one. Jaehaerys gave me the cloak that I have worn with pride since I was twenty and three. I liked my brothers the best with Aerys. The peace that followed with Robert was the best. But Draedon, well Draedon I like the best out of them.

I had watched Jaehaerys wither away from sickness. I had seen Aerys lose his mind and do horrible things. I watched Robert change from the Warrior himself, into a fat drunkard. But I have seen Draedon grow from a boy to a man grown. A bit soft for a King, but I am sure that he will change with time. He was always a late bloomer when it came to things. He was eight when he first read a book, he never looked back after. He was ten and two when he picked up a sword for the first time, now he challenges me in the training yard. He will learn how to be a strong King, it is what he does. It takes time for him to settle in to a new task, but he will adapt to the new challenge, like always.

I just wonder how long it will take him to change.

I look at my fellow White Cloak brother, Ser Arys Oakheart. The King chose him to accompany me when I transported his father's body. He is without a helm at the burial, allowing his shoulder length hair to shine in the sun. He turns to look at me, hair moving with the light breeze that is blowing, a serious expression on his face, a most unusual look for him. Sir Arys has always worn a lazy smile, or a carefree look, but never a serious, gloomy expression.

When the fresh dirt is finally finished being tossed on the grave, Lord Stannis walks over to me and my brother. We stand at attention as he nears. My white helm reflecting the summer sun's light, directly into the eyes of the Red Woman that follows behind the Lord of Storm's End. She does not blink as the light strikes her eyes, not even a little. She stares at me as she walks towards my standing form. I turn to look at the knight that follows Stannis, Ser Davos Seaworth, the Onion Knight.

Before they can reach us, a servant boy runs up to Stannis, with a letter in hand. "M'lord, a raven came from the capital." The boy cries out.

He hands the letter to Stannis, who just accepts it and dismisses the heavily-breathing lowborn boy. The boy bows his head and runs back to where he came from. When I turn away from the retreating form of the boy, I meet the eyes of the Red Woman, she apparently has never looked away from me. I do not show it, but she unnerves me to no end, with her knowing stare. It is as if she is seeing all of the horrible things I have done in all of my years of life. I turn my attention to the letter the boy brought, as it is sealed with the royal sigil of a crowned stag.

Stannis' usually serious face has contorted into one of anger. Pure fury burning inside of his blazing blue eyes. Ser Davos stands dutifully by his side, but his face gives away his worry. The woman finally takes her alluring eyes off of me, and places them on Lord Stannis and his now crumpled letter.

"Has something happened, my Lord?" Davos breaks the silence between our little group. Stannis turns on him, with speed I did not expect the man to possess.

He takes a few calming breaths before he responds. "It appears that my nephew was attacked by a damn assassin." I feel my heart begin to beat faster at his words. He turns to look at me and Arys, who I can tell from his sharp intake of breath, is in no better shape than I. "The letter says that if it were not for Clegane, the cutthroat surely would have made it to the King. The entirety of the Kingsguard that remained inside the capital to protect the King, has perished." He hands the letter to me, and I read it as quickly as I can.

 _Uncle Stannis,_

 _I can only assume that father's burial has happened, so I hope it went well and without a problem. I am writing to inform you that the Red Keep is not as secure as I have believed it to be. An assassin entered the White Sword Tower, and slayed my Kingsguard. We believe that he had mistaken the tower and just adapted to the mistake. If Sandor had not been entering the tower in search of a place to rest, I fear what would have happened to my family. I ask that when you read this, to immediately find Ser Barristan and Ser Arys and send them back to the capital. And if you were in the procession with them, I would much appreciate it. I need you uncle._

 _Your nephew,_

 _Draedon of the House Baratheon, First of his name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm_

I hand the letter to Arys, who reads just as quickly as I. He nods as he hands the parchment back to Lord Stannis. "My Lord, I would ask that you provide us with provisions for our travels, as we must leave in haste." I say as Arys nods alongside me.

"Do not fret, Ser Barristan. A ship will be prepared for you in just a few days and then you will be able to set sail. Or if you would like, you and Ser Arys can take some horses and arrive in the capital in close to a fortnight. The choice is yours." The stern Lord of Storm's End stares at me with a piercing gaze.

Ser Arys speaks for the first time on this day. "If it pleases, Lord Commander," I nod to my brother in arms to continue, "It seems like it would be better to wait for the ship to be prepared. I do not know about you, but I am still weary from our travels here and I would like the rest."

I sigh at his words. I can understand his sentiment about wanting to rest, as it has been a long few weeks, and rest would be nice. But, the King has no Kingsguard in the city and he needs them. All he has to protect him is the Hound and his pet lion. But, would the two of us really be of much help, if we can not even get through our shifts without falling asleep at our posts?

My internal debate comes to an end as I turn to our host. "If we may, my Lord, we would enjoy the comfort of your keep, if you will have us."

"Of course, Ser Barristan. Start resting for your journey back." Stannis says before he spins on his heel and walks back towards his family's ancestral keep. Ser Davos following behind him, after a brief nod of recognition towards myself and Ser Arys. But the Red Woman stays behind and stares at me and my brother.

She saunters towards me and stops when her body is very close to my own. So close, in fact, that the scent of her auburn hair fills my nostrils."I wish I were going with you when you return to the capital. It would be nice to be able to finally see the man that the flames will not show me." She walks away after that, her eastern accent lingering in my ears.

I look at Arys, who looks at me at the same time. He widens his eyes and releases a breath. I can only shake my head at the strange woman. The King will have his hands full with her, if Queen Dowager Cersei lets her get close enough to him. We make our way into the ancient keep, the place we shall rest our heads for the night, to sleep and replenish our bodies for the long journey that awaits us in the near future.

 **Myrcella POV**

Tommen's food is perfectly cooked, exactly how he asked for it. His bacon, flimsy and undercooked, so he can chew on it for a while. Mother's food is always made to her liking, as the servants and kitchen maids are terrified of her. I watch her stab her fork into one of her sausage links and bite into it. I look down to my plate and feel envy wash over me for mother's sausage.

My eggs are not quite as done as I had hoped. They are still runny in the middle. My bacon has been burned black, and I do not like it like that. Even my crisp fried fish is undercooked and mushy as opposed to crisp, how it was supposed to be. I am confused about how it can turn out mushy, when it is supposed to be _crispy._ It has set the tone for the rest of my day, it is not going to be a good day.

But then Draedon entered the dining room and my day seemed to brighten up. I can feel the smile find its way to my face, as my eyes land on him. His crown gleaming in the light as he walks towards the mahogany table, shining as brightly as his beautiful eyes. He stops briefly to tell a servant of the food he desires, but he continues over to us.

He reaches where Tommen is sitting first, and a slight pang of jealousy hits me. I should be the one that gets his affection first, not Tommen. I am the one who should have their hair tousled about right now, not my little brother.

Next, he moves over to mother and bends to kiss her cheek. The pang returns harder than before. He should be kissing me, not her.

"Good morning, mother." He even speaks to her first. Anger beginning to form with the jealousy.

"Same to you, Draedon. Did you sleep well?" Mother says, with a hand on his arm as he walks towards me and the empty chair that is next to me, on the right.

He flashes her his perfect smile, as he walks farther away from her. "I slept as easily as I could hope to."

Mother just nodded her head at his words, as he passes behind my chair. I fear that he ignores me, but only for a moment. I feel his powerful arms wrap around my lithe body, while he maneuvers around to firmly kiss my cheek.

"Good morning to you too, dear sister." He lightly says. His face still so close to my own, that his beard tickles my cheek as he speaks.

A warm feeling fills my belly as he hugs me. I love this feeling, and it only happens when Draedon is around or touching me. I do not feel it with mother or Tommen, I did not feel it with father, or with any of my uncles. Only Draedon. It has only just started recently though, I do not know what this feeling is, but I enjoy it tremendously.

"Hello to you too, Draedon." I say with a small giggle that I could not contain. He smiles at me and places another light kiss to my cheek, before he releases his hold on me and takes a seat on the empty chair at the table.

He is barely settled in his seat before his personal cook places his plate of food don in front of him. "I prepared what you asked for, Your Grace. Your bacon not quite burnt, but not undercooked. And I made some extra fried peppers glazed in honey, I know that you enjoy them, Your Grace."

Draedon grants her a smile and a touch on her hand. "I appreciate the thought, my dear Alyssa. Everything looks amazing, you have outdone yourself." She blushes prettily at the praise, and I want to wipe the smile off her face. If the glare is any indication, mother does too. Stray brown hairs falls in front of her face, hiding the rush of blood like a curtain hides the sun. "You may go." Draedon speaks in an unusual tone. "But I am sure looking forward to my dinner." Her blush darkens even more, before she curtsies and exits the room.

I very much dislike the brown eyed girl. Dislike is actually too nice of a word for how I feel about the common girl that stares at my brother with her stupid big brown eyes. Her eyes are so dull to look at, unlike mine. I look over to mother, she has not stopped staring at Draedon.

"And what are you having for dinner, Draedon?" Mother asks slowly. Draedon just looks at her with clear eyes.

"I do not know yet, mother. I suppose that I will enjoy whatever my cook spreads on my table." Mother's glare hardens, as Draedon winks at me. I can not stop the smile that makes its way to my face at his expression.

Draedon looks down to my plate and frowns as he stares at it. He picks it up and replaces it with his own plate. "I know how much you hate undercooked eggs, so take mine." The warm feeling returns fully, as it fills my belly again when I take a bite of perfectly crisp bacon.

Draedon cuts into the disgusting eggs of mine and takes a bite of them. He smiles at me, but I can tell he wants something to drink other than water. He suffers through the bad breakfast, so I can have his good one. This is why I love him.

Before he can finish it though, one of Varys' servants enters the room with a bowed head. The boy is short and stocky, he has not missed too many meals. Shaggy ginger hair falling across his brow. hands a piece of parchment to Draedon and dashes from the room, before the Hound stops him from leaving. He pick the boy up by the back of his robe. Draedon opens the parchment and begins to read it. Silence fills the room, as we all have baited breath waiting for him to finish the letter. Draedon's eyes widen to a large extent as they continue scanning the parchment.

Draedon stands and marches over to the lifted boy, whose eyes show his fear. "Is this true?" Draedon speaks quickly, but the boy's head moves quicker. He nods furiously at the question. "Sandor, release him." The Hound drops the poor boy from a height he is unused to being at. "Find Lord Varys and tell him to get to the Council Room. Before he goes there though, send for the other Council members." The boy stands there, awaiting more orders."Now, boy." He rushes away after that.

Draedon walks back towards his spot at the table, grabs his goblet of water and unceremoniously dumps the water out into the base of a nearby plant. He quickly grabs the wine and fills the goblet of his full to the brim. Mother has a strange look on her face as she watches him move. Draedon sits down after he takes a deep gulp of his Arbor Gold.

"What does the parchment say, Draedon?" Tommen innocently asks of our favorite sibling.

Draedon looks down to Tommen and his golden locks of hair. "Well, little brother," He looks toward mother as he speaks, "it appears that our dear uncle Renly has finally decided to solidify his claim to he army that is backing him and his own foolish schemes." Tommen nods his chubby face in acceptance of the answer. "Well, he is getting married to House Tyrell's daughter, Margaery." Tommen tilts his head to the side, confused about what is being said. "He is actually marrying this girl, just so he can steal my throne from me. What an amazing family we have, right, Tommen?" Draedon begins to laugh lightly, before it changes into a booming sound, much like how father used to laugh.

Tommen inches away from our laughing brother. "That means that a war between two kings is about to start soon." He speaks in between laughing. I have heard his laugh a thousand times, and I know that this one is different. A laugh that holds no humor in it. Mother must notice it too, as her eyes show concern as she stares at Draedon. "And both of them are Baratheons too, it just keeps getting more interesting by the second."

He stops laughing and abruptly stands up. "Excuse me, but I have some issues that deserve my attention." He walks away from the table and to the door. "I will see you tonight." He exits, the Hound following close behind him, like a silent shadow.

We sit quietly for a few moments. "Mother, is Draedon okay? His laugh seemed different." Tommen asks, with a questioning look on his face. Even little Tommen could see through the fake laugh, which is surprising, as he usually does not catch things like that.

Mother smiles sweetly at him. "Draedon is going to be alright, my little lion. He is just under some pressure now, but I know things will be okay again, very soon." She pats his hand with her own. "But you do not need to worry about that, eat your breakfast. You too, Myrcella." Her emerald eyes turn on me. "Do not fret over this. Draedon will fix everything."

I smile lightly and nod my head. I pick up a piece of bacon and take a small bite. My appetite has disappeared, along everything else, except worry for Draedon. I just knew that this day was going to be bad.


	9. Meetings

**A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, people. I hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

 **Maric POV**

This city smells like shit, at least that is the nicest way to say it. You can smell it from a mile out. Personally, I believe that it could be smelled from farther out if it were not for the smell of the sea covering it up. Pulling into the dock only makes it worse, making it stronger. I have to cover my nose as I step off the boat onto the wooden planks of the capital's docks. But I can suffer through the stench, perhaps I could even get used to it.

After spending two weeks preparing for this trip, and then this past few days on the sea traveling here, I will get used to it. Lord Stannis is counting on me to be able to do this. And after everything he has done for me and my family, I owe it to him to try my hardest. He even had nice clothing made for me, just so the people of the King's court would not look down on me. Lord Stannis even garnered my opinion on the clothing, so that I would be comfortable while wearing them. I glance down to my clothing as I walk up the stairs of the dock, towards the towering Red Keep.

My brown leather doublet, with the onion sigil that my father created years ago sewed on to my breast, blocking the slight breeze from hitting my arms. I decided to wear my favorite attire, which is not very extravagant when compared to the clothing of royalty. I take after my father when it comes to clothing, it is better to be comfortable than pretty. Simple breeches cover my lower half, making the heat almost intolerable. My black boots are worn and scuffed, as they have properly been broken in from my overuse of them.

Nervousness flutters around inside my stomach as I near the keep. I just can not determine if the nervousness is from seeing my old friend again for the first time in years, or from the looks of high born Lords and Ladies that I am bound to attract. I would prefer the former, as Draedon has a way of calming people and making them feel protected. When we got into trouble on Dragonstone years ago, and Lord Stannis would be furious with us, Draedon always claimed responsibility for our actions. He would say he coerced me into doing things, or that he used his title of Crown Prince to force me to do them with him. Lord Stannis never truly punished Draedon or me, in fact, if I did not know any better, I would say that our trouble making and the Prince's antics amused him more than angered him.

I am stopped by half a dozen gold cloaks that are standing guard at the doors to the Great Hall. I can hear the people of the King's court talking to one another through the thick bronze and wood doors. From my years being around wood, I can see that the carvings that are on the door look as if they were recently made. Two great stags freshly made, one matching the other on each door.

I convince them to let me in to see the King, but only if he can confirm who I am, and if he can confirm that I am no threat to him. So two of them walk me through the crowd, the high borns parting as we near them. I can hear the murmurs, I can hear them speaking about me. It seems they can not recognize the sigil on my chest. Why care enough to learn about a low born house in a different kingdom?

As we walk towards my friend, the King himself, I take a look around the cavernous room, ignoring the people speaking about me. I spot several things that catch my eye.

A deep black rug splits the entire room in half, and is matched by two thinner crimson ones on either side of the hall while embattled banners bearing House Baratheon's sigil of a crowned stag dangle gently from the walls. Between each banner sits a shrine-like ornament covered in candles, almost all of them have been lit and in turn illuminate the tapestries of divine depictions of stags and lions below them. I see tremendous braziers encompassing each of the six white marble columns light up the lower levels of the throne hall and engulf the throne hall in a brilliant glimmer.

As I try to ignore these people, some strike my eye. I see who I presume to be Draedon's mother, the Queen Dowager Cersei, standing at the front of the crowd. Her long golden hair falling on a crimson dress with gold trim. A smaller golden haired girl, that looks exactly like the Queen, standing beside her. A black dress marks the main difference between the two. She must be Myrcella. Draedon always spoke of her. I see Sandor Clegane, the Hound standing guard. He is easy to spot, due to his height and his infamous burn scars.

We follow the black rug, weaving through people, all the way from the doors to the bottom of the stairs that is guarded by the Hound and a member of the Kingsguard that I can not identify. I look up from the base of the stairs that lead up to the great Iron Throne. And what a sight the throne is, it is something that you can never unsee. Swords wrapped around and molded into other swords, a pure iron horror sight. Something so haunting that you can not look away from.

After some deep concentration, I have to pry my eyes away from the great Iron Throne, so I can peer at the lone figure sitting upon it. A grown lion laying by his feet, as he lays back on his seat, I see my oldest friend. His long hair loosely framing his face, curling towards the end of the strands. His golden crown firmly holding it in place, so they do not get in his face and sight. A black doublet, as dark as a starless night, adorns his torso, a proud stag sewn on his breast.

His deep blue eyes peering down to the beast warming his feet, a warm smile as he looks upon it. The Queen Dowager is staring at the scene before her with a look of distaste on her face. It looks like she does not approve of his feline companion or their relationship. While her younger counterpart has a smile plasterd on her face that exceeds the warmth that Draedon's exudes.

"Pardon, Your Grace." Draedon looks up from the lion, to put his focus on to the gold cloak that speaks to him. Brow furrowed in confusion as he stares at the guard. "This man says he has business with you, and none of us know him. Give the order and we shall remove him, Your Grace."

As the man finishes speaking, the King finally turns his gaze to me. Confusion quickly shifts into a look of recognition as his eyes burn into mine. Our staring match continues for a few moments, before the lion at his feet huffs loudly. I can only smile slightly at the interruption, which in turns makes Draedon smile back at me.

"Release him. He is a friend of mine." They nod and bow quickly, and turn to go back to their posts outside the door. Draedon's smile widens as he stares at me, before he abruptly stands from the great throne. "Court is adjourned for the day, I ask that you join me again next time, fair people of King's Landing." He walks down the stairs before he stops before me. He clasps my shoulder with his large hand. "Maric, how are you, my friend?"

"I am good, Your Grace. Weary from travel, but good." I say lowly. He nods, before he looks to the dispersing crowd behind me.

He releases my shoulder and waves me to follow him as he walks away. I fall into step behind him easily, the Hound walks beside me while the unidentified Kingsguard walks behind us. Draedon nods his head towards his mother and sister, they smile in return. His mother looks at me, her eyes roam my entire body. A look of disdain on her face as she reaches my boots. I begin to feel self conscious as her look on intensifies, until I feel it.

Warmth rubs against my leg. I look down, only for my heart to skip a beat at the sight by my feet. A lion just rubbed my thigh as it passed me in route to its master. Genuine fear runs through my body at the sight of the animal. A breathe a single of relief as it trots along Draedon's side. I do not care what it does, so long as does it far from me.

As we pass multiple doors down our trek through a wide hall, we finally stop at what I can perceive is our destination. The King opens the door for his pet to enter, before turning to his followers. "Sandor, Ser Balon, stand guard. No one enters the room. Understand?" They both nod once, in sync with one another. Sandor taking the left side, while the now identified Ser Balon takes the right.

Draedon enters the room, and I follow him inside silently. I watch as Draedon pours two goblets of water and places them down on the lone desk in the room. He sits in the nicer chair and gestures for me to follow suit. I sit as instructed. He pushes a goblet of water towards me. I smile and take a drink from the offered goblet.

Draedon leans back in his chair. His hand gripping the armrest of the chair, while he strokes his beard with the other. "So how are you, Maric?"

"I believe you have already asked me that, Your Grace." A smile plays at my lips.

He rolls his eyes at my words. "I have, but in a room full of people listening to us. This is just us. Just old friends."

"I have no complaints as of now. What about you? How are you, Draedon?" His grip on the arm of the chair tightens.

He gives a lazy smile, a false smile. "You know me, Maric. I am always good."

"I do know you, at least, I like to believe that I know you. So if what I think I know about you is true, you are lying to me." A bashful grin becomes prominent on his face. "Honestly, Draedon." He takes a big intake of breath.

"In the last eight moons, I have lost the man I consider a grandfather, my brother, and my father. I was thrust in a position of power that I was not ready for, the weight of Seven Kingdoms bearing down on my shoulders, all day every day. I have three members of my small council and only one Kingsguard inside the city. One uncle who does not respond to my ravens, one uncle who last I have heard, is still locked away. I have two great houses fighting each other, whilst simultaneously destroying the land run by another. And on top of everything else, I have another uncle in open rebellion with a very large army at his back." He says in quick succession. Taking a heavy breath before continuing. "But, other than that, life is nice."

As he speaks, my eyes widen with each passing word. I knew being King was a lot of responsibility, but I never expected that. "So, what do you need from me?" The only thing I can offer is my support and help.

"Help. I need help, Maric." He says with a hand rubbing his face.

I take another drink of my water. "You have it. Just let me know what you need from me."

A small smile makes its way to his bearded face. "Well, I could use a Master of Ships."

"Well, I am sure that you could send for someone with naval experience. With the Reach in rebellion, perhaps Manderly in the North. Lord Wyman, I believe his name to be. Or Lord Stannis if he would come."

"And there in lies the problem, Maric. Stannis refuses to respond, and Manderly is in the midst of fighting alongside the North against the Westerlands." His head shakes, long hair swaying with the motions. "No, I need someone that is here already. Someone who has worked with ships for some time. Someone I can trust." His gaze shifts to me when he finishes.

I nod, before I realize what he says. My eyes widen. "Draedon, I could... There has to be someone better suited than me."

He smiles. "I do not want someone better. I want my oldest friend, someone I trust." I open my mouth, only to close it. I have no words to express my emotions right now. His smile grows. "Good, I am glad you agree. I will announce your new position when I hold court again." He grabs his goblet of water and raises it high above the table. "To old friends, and new lives." He toasts.

His cup held high, waiting for me to clank mine with his. I stare at him for a long time, he stares back. If I accept this, I will be in a better position than my father. I will be able to follow through for Lord Stannis' task much more easily. But, it would put a target on my back.

But as I look into Draedon's eyes, I see the vulnerability that he holds right now. My choice seems so easy at that moment. I smile at him to ease his worry, as I raise my own goblet and smash it to his.

"To a new life." No turning back now.

We drink together and chat for a few more minutes. Talking about my future duties, and some old memories that bring a fondness to our smiles, before a knock on the door stops us.

"What is it?" The King yells out.

"Lord Varys is here." A gruff voice yells from the other side of the door.

Draedon looks to me and nods towards the door. "Find a servant as you leave and tell them to show you to your room. It will be located in Maegor's Holdfast, in the guest wing."

And that lets me know that our conversation is over for now. I nod and leave for the door, and as I stand I see the lion for the first time. Its long body laying by his feet once again. Its tail whipping him every few seconds, but Draedon does not seem to mind. I open the door and see a bald man standing between the two guards. He is soft looking, but confident as he stands there. He nods in acknowledgement of me, as I nod back. He enters, as I exit.

As I walk down the hall, I can not help but to smile at the events of my life. I had never dreamed of being in a position like this when I was just a boy. I can not believe the turn of events that have lead to this, I just hope to not let anyone down with my new position.

 **Draedon POV**

When my mother walks in, I knew that this would be a taxing day. I love my mother, but all she has done lately is speak about things that I could care less about, such as marriage. With all of the stressful events happening around the Seven Kingdoms, marriage is one of the farthest things from my mind.

Her methodical steps echoing throughout my solar. I can not tell if her slow steps are due to apprehension of being close to Ruby, who is enjoying the rewards of her morning hunt, or just wishing to make a dramatic entrance and build some sort of suspense of the upcoming conversation. Most likely the latter. She sits on the chair on the opposite side of my desk and tilts her head to the side, trying to peer at the letter that I am writing.

"Where has your dog been these past few mornings?" Mother asks, as she makes herself comfortable in my solar. Her golden hair clashing nicely with the green dress she is wearing when she straightens her head to look down at Ruby.

I do not have to look at her to know she is staring at Ruby with contempt, as my beautiful companion is eating her breakfast of freshly killed venison. Her sharp teeth tearing through the tender meat with ease. I can only smile at the distaste that mother has for Ruby, it is nice that some things never change.

I continue writing my letter while I speak. "He is out and about, doing things that I asked him to do."

"You have hundreds of servants at your disposal, and you choose to send your sworn sword, when you barely have any other protection within the city, out on minor errands?"

I sigh, as I can feel the beginning of a headache starting. I have been getting them a great deal lately, ever since the crowning. "When I give Sandor a task, it is simply because he is the only one I trust to carry it out."

"Trust is not something you should just hand out, Draedon." I can hear the exasperation in her tone.

"I do not just hand it out, mother." I pour the gold wax on to the finished letter, and press my royal stamp into it. Mother does not look away from my letter as I push the sealed parchment to the side, and dip my quill into the inkwell in preparation for my next letter.

As I begin scribbling a missive to the Prince of Dorne, mother huffs with annoyance. "Could you at least look at me while I speak to you, Draedon?"

I do not look away from my letter as I respond. "No. I am very busy, mother. I do not have time to look away, as I have to multitask. So if you need to speak with me, it will have to be done without eye contact." I say with an uninterested tone. It was unintentional, but I do not have time to fret over it.

A sigh is the only sign of frustration at my words. "Well then, if you would like, I can cut to main reason I am here?"

"That would be much appreciated, mother." My entire head is throbbing dully at this point in he conversation. It is beginning to become difficult to concentrate on two separate actions at the same time.

"You need to marry soon." My quill snaps at her words. My eyes look up towards her, and her emerald eyes are peering at me unblinkingly.

I throw the broken quill into the waste basket, and lean back in my chair as I can stare owlishly at my mother. I bring my hand to head, and rub at my temple trying to lessen the ache.

"This again?"

"You wanted to speak about it on another day, it is another day, Drae. This is a serious issue, one that needs to be addressed sooner rather than later." She speaks about such a _serious_ issue with ease.

"Right, I did say a later day. Did you have a girl in particular that you wish for me to look at for the position?" I ask knowing that my mother has something in mind.

"I have already invited your cousins, Rosamund and Myrielle, to the capital. It will allow you to meet them and see if you can have a future with one of them." The longer this conversation is going on, the throbbing becomes sharper. Mother can apparently spot my discomfort. "Are you okay, Draedon?"

"I am fine. When they get here, I will meet them and spend time with them. Is that acceptable with you?" I ask with a sharp tone.

Her green eyes widen at my tone. "Yes, that will be acceptable. Thank you." She stands as she says the last words. Smoothing invisible wrinkles from her dress as she stands in front of my desk. "I will leave you alone now." She turns her head towards the door, before looking back to me. "Just know, Draedon, I am always here for you. Any sort of problem, or any worry that you have, I will help you to the best of my ability."

"Yes, mother, I know." She nods at my simple words.

She is almost out of the room, when Ser Balon knocks on the door. "Your Grace, Lord Commander Barristan Selmy and Ser Arys Oakheart have returned." He yells through the door. Mother stops and looks back towards me.

"Open." My word is soon followed, as the door opens slowly. In walks Ser Barristan and Ser Arys, white cloaks billowing in their entrances.

They kneel as soon as they reach the center of the room. "I apologize for our tardiness, but we came as soon as we could." The old knight speaks for them both.

I nod to mother for her to leave. She obeys with slight hesitation in her step. When the door closes behind her, I speak. "Please rise, Sers." They rise in an instant. "Tell me, how was your travels?" I ask.

"They were pleasant enough, Your Grace, considering the conditions of them." I nod along to the Lord Commander's words.

"I hope that my father's body was taken good care of and has been placed in his final resting place?" I question the pair of knights.

Ser Barristan answers again. "We cared for his body as well as we could, and we watched his body be placed in the ground ourselves, Your Grace." I pull a new quill out of one of the drawers of my desk and dip it in ink, as Ser Barristan finishes.

I nod in acknowledgement. "Well, you two must be tired from your journey, so please go and rest. Sleep well, for when Sandor returns, we will be busy." I begin rewriting the letter as I speak.

"If I may be so bold as to ask, where is Clegane, Your Grace?" The older man says to me, questioning tone in his voice.

I smile slightly at his words. "You have always been bold, haven't you, Ser Barristan?" The joke makes him smile and Ser Arys grins as well. "Sandor is out on a task for me, he will return in a few days time, hopefully."

The two knights look towards one another, before another word is spoken. "How long has he been gone, Your Grace?"

"A lot of questions from you today, Ser Barristan." I teasingly smile at the elder knight.

His kind blue eyes showing curiosity in them. "Just trying to catch up on things."

I sigh. "He has been gone for a little over six days. He should return in a fortnight or so." The old knight nods at my words. "Now go rest." They leave after their parting bows.

Being alone allows me to focus on my letter to the dornish, for which I am grateful. This needs to be done, and soon. As I write, another knock strikes the door. My frustration is beginning to bubble inside of me.

"Check them for weapons and just send them in, Ser Balon." I say loudly through gritted teeth. I do not look towards the slow footsteps that enter through the opening door. "What is your business?"

"To serve the new King." A soothing voice says. I look up at the familiar voice and see him kneeling in front of my desk.

"Seven Hells, you are here." I breathe out slowly.

 **Cersei POV**

"What do you mean Draedon is gone?" I spit out to the cockless man. His false smile never leaving his face.

"I mean that the King has left the city. He will return a few weeks from now, until then, the Small Council will rule in his stead." The eunuch speaks in a voice softer than mine. "He has asked me to ask you to sit in on the meetings and give your opinion on the matter of the Realm." He finishes speaking and I am almost speechless.

"And where is my son heading, exactly?"

"We have been unable to figure out where he is going or where he is at this moment. The King was very smart about hiding his whereabouts and intentions."

"How hard can it be to find him?"

"Very difficult, my Queen. The King sent two ships out of the harbor in the dead of the night, one traveling north, the other south. There was also three sets of riders that departed at the same time. One group heading towards Casterly Rock and the Westerlands, another heading south closer to Storm's End than the Reach, and the third traveling north towards the Riverlands. We do not know which group King Draedon is a part of. We do not know if he is sailing or riding, we just do not know where he is." He says to me.

"Then send multiple groups after them, it should not be difficult to catch them." Obviously, this should have already been done, but since it was only men that have been doing the thinking thus far, it probably has not been thought of.

A new voice interrupts. "That would be unwise, my Queen. With open rebellion happening to he south, King Renly may take advantage of the opening if it becomes known that King Draedon is not inside the city walls. We should just keep quiet about it, and if anyone should ask it, we say that the King is ill." Some boy with bright amber eyes and shaggy sandy brown hair is the one that speaks.

"And who are you?" With an even tone, I ask the boy.

The boy stands from his spot around the table, and bows his body to me. "Oh, apologies, my Queen. I am Maric Seaworth, the King named me Master of Ships a few weeks ago."

"If that is true, why am I just meeting you now?" I question the young boy. He sinks back into the chair. When he looks away from my gaze and towards the table, I can only smirk victoriously inwardly.

He coughs into his hand awkwardly, as he knows that he has my gaze upon him. "I have been busy doing my duties. There was no time available to meet you or any other people, my Queen."

"What duties? Stannis took the ships with him back to Storm's End when he left the city. You have no ships to be the master of." I say to the shaggy haired boy.

"Precisely, my Queen. I have been busy overseeing the building of the new ships. I felt it only right that there be some sort of naval power protecting the city. Plus, it has been keeping me extremely busy. We have almost finished building one ship, and a second has already been commissioned." He proclaims with a small amount of pride laced into his voice.

Pride is something he should not have yet. "Are you not a bit young to be on the Small Council?" I ask the boy who looks as if he has never bedded a woman.

His face becomes as red as a Lannister banner before he answers. "The King said that he wishes for me to learn at my position as he learns at his." That does sound like something that Draedon would say.

"Right." I look away from the boy and turn back to the silent members of the council. "Can one of you please tell me where my son is?"

Pycelle jumps at my question. "We are doing everything we can to find he King, but as you know, finding someone who does not wish to be found is no easy task." The ancient man croaks out in a slow drawl. "But young Lord Maric is right, we should stay silent on his matter until we can locate the King and bring him back safely and securely."

Varys nods his head along with the slow words. "If the King is believed to still be in the city, it will buy us time before King Renly comes to our gates. He will hesitate to attack due to his knowledge of King Draedon's military prowess. Even with the Reach behind him, sacking the city of King's Landing is no easy feat, especially when it is being protected by people like Barristan Selmy and Sandor Clegane." His soft voice carries weight to it, inside the large room.

My eyes widen when I realize the easiest way to find him. "And which group holds Barristan and Clegane? Draedon will want his dog with him at all times, and the Lord Commander will want to be with him as well." I say quickly.

"He is also traveling with a lion, my Queen, so we will find him. But it is most beneficial to remain quiet on the matter. The Kingdoms will be just fine for the days without the King, but not if we continue onward with this issue. There are other matters that need our attention, so if you will, please sit and let us get this meeting truly started." The Lord of Whores says to me, his smile has been less prominent as of late. He gestures towards one of the open seats around the table.

I sit on the one that Draedon usually would sit in. The chair that the person with the most power sits on. The chair that I have deserved for as long as I can remember, and now it is mine. Despite the small window of time that I will sit upon it, this is a victory for me. This is what I have suffered for years for. This is what I have been owed, and now it is mine.


	10. Loyalties

**A/N: It has come to my attention that I began to misspell Willas' name, so I have went back and fix that. Thank you to alec-potter and BloodRaven46 for telling me about it.**

* * *

 **Draedon POV**

Ruby is becoming more anxious by the day sitting on this ship. She needs to run and hunt something, all she has eaten for this past week is fish, and she is not happy with it. I have had to sparingly feed her what food was brought onto the ship for her. I am half tempted to kill one of the sailors for her, but that would set a bad precedent. I am so glad that we are close to our destination. We should be boarding the dock on this day, and I am so happy for this trip to be done, but the hard part comes next.

I rub Ruby down her spine as she eats the last of the chicken we brought. The feeling of her soft fur running between my fingers brings a smile to my face. I do not know what I would do without her by my side anymore. She begins to purr as continue my petting of my faithful friend.

I enjoy feeling her fur, but I pet her for a rather selfish reason. Running my hands over Ruby eases the tension in my head. It is the only relief I have from the ache that came with being King. I wonder if father had to deal with it when he ruled.

A knock on the cabin door takes my attention away from Ruby. "My King, we are close to docking." Ser Balon's thick words shock me.

That was quicker than I had anticipated the trip to be. I suppose I will just have to make do with the preparation I have already done.

"How did our gift handle the travel?" I ask through the door.

"Still unbroken, last time I checked, Your Grace." The white cloak knight says.

I can only smile at his words. It is good that it is still in one piece, it should give a few moments of reprieve with my future hosts. I think they will enjoy it.

I look back over to the book that is open on the table that I occupy. One of many that I read on the sail here. _Ten Thousand Ships_ says that Queen Nymeria sailed a fleet of ten thousand ships, a feat no one else can claim, and settled her people into Dorne. I do not know if it is true, but I sincerely hope it is not.

It would mean, that the Rhoynar people either commanded their citizens to build the utterly massive fleet. While impressive, and a truly devastating sight to behold, would have been pure torture on their followers. And the other option is that they stole the majority of their fleet, and that makes them no better than pirates, like Euron Greyjoy. I pity them, either way.

The royal fleet only contains a little over 200 ships. How do you compete against a fleet a ships that is fifty times bigger than your own fleet? I am glad the ships were burned, and that the dornish people never rebuilt them. I would hate to think about what would have happened to the Westerlands had Oberyn had that fleet when the Sacking of King's Landing happened years ago.

I shake my head of the thoughts as I try to continue reading my book, waiting as anxiously as my feline friend until we finally dock. After I finish the book of Nymeria, I place it on top of the stack on the table and grab the next one up.

 _The Conquest of Dorne_ by Daeron Targaryen, first of his name.

* * *

"Your Grace, we were not expecting you to make the trip here, especially now with your uncle rebelling against you." Prince Doran says from his wheeled chair. His family sitting around him on cushioned seats. "So what brings you to our sands?"

His brother has yet to take his eyes off of me or Ruby, like a viper waiting to strike his prey. Oberyn's daughters to his left, his paramour to his right. Being the bastard daughter of a Lord, she has the look of regality about her. She looks at me with a questioning gaze. Which I will easily take over how the infamous Sand Snakes are looking at me. I have never met them, and I can easily spot the distrust and the contempt that lingers in their eyes. I can not bring myself to look at them for too long.

Directly across from the Sand Snakes is two of Prince Doran's three children. His eldest daughter, and the heir to Sunspear and all of Dorne, and his youngest son, Trystane. A young boy, with straight black hair. When he grows and begins to fill out, I have no doubt that bedwarmers will be easy to come by for him. His elder son is no where to be seen, he must be a squire or maybe even being fostered somewhere.

Clutching my hands together behind my back, I speak. "I had to see whether these sands were still loyal to the throne, or if they have changed their loyalties."

I hear the scoff coming from Oberyn. His daughters shifting around in their seats, blowing the extra air from their mouths, in the same way as their father did.

Doran looks their way briefly, before turning back to me. "I can assure you, Your Grace, we have the same loyalties that we have had for years." He says in a soft voice. "I am sure you are tired from the journey here, I can have someone show you to a room, if you would like." He says with a reassuring smile on his face.

His smile should put me at ease, but it does the complete opposite. I am tempted to pull my sword from its sheathe and begin swinging at the people seated inside this room, but I am not some halfwit.

"That would be nice, Prince Doran. And if I had the time, I may have just left this conversation at that for tonight. But I do not have time, because, as you said earlier, I have a rebellion in the Reach that requires my immediate attention." I say easily.

"So, what is it you wish to discuss then?" He asks me with calculating eyes.

"The North and the Westerlands are fighting amongst themselves, that leaves the Stormlands as my army. And while I have complete faith in their abilities, when it comes to war, the side with the bigger army usually wins, and well, Renly has the bigger army." I say, staring at the older man.

"And you want Dornish spears at your back for this war?" Oberyn asks from his seat, surrounded by his army of daughters.

I turn to look at the infamous Red Viper. "Better with me than against me. And I know that even with Dorne, we would still be outnumbered, but hopefully, a war on two fronts would ruin them." I say with a nod.

"Your Grace, with respect, I am the protector of Dorne first, and loyal to the crown second. And sending my people to war does not seem like the wisest decision I can make." Doran pulls my attention back to him.

I sigh. Turning my head to look down at Ruby. I bend down and pet her giant head. "I understand that, but hopefully I can persuade you to change your mind." Prince Doran raises his brow at my words. "I know nothing of Dorne, this is my first experience in this Kingdom, and it will have to be a short trip for me. And since I do not know the people or the land, I do not know what would be best for Dorne." I turn to look the ruling Prince in his eyes. "So, if you would join in and help fight this rebellion, I would offer you a spot on the Small Council as an advisor. And, if you can not make the trip to King's Landing, you may send a proxy in your stead." I say calmly.

Oberyn laughs from his seat. "It is what you have always wanted, brother. A spot on the illustrious Small Council. That is a great reward for the lives of our army." His daughters laugh at his words, his paramour has a bright smile.

Rubbing Ruby the right way, makes her roar at the Dornish royalty. That silences their laughs, but makes the older girls grip their weapons. All of their eyes snap to my feline protector. In that moment, I notice the similarities with their eyes. Most share the same color, but all share the same shape. The shape of a viper.

"Do not think me naive because of my youth." I say to the now silent onlookers. Patting Ruby in a way to calm her, and pushing her to go lay by the door. Her steps eventually stop, and I hear the thud of her body laying on the ground. "I know what it is that you wish. Justice. Justice for the atrocities that happened to your sister and her children." That gets their attention, eyes staring at me.

"And you would give us that justice?" Prince Doran says, gaining my attention.

"I am not my father." I state simply.

I look back to Balon Swann, my only Kingsguard who accompanied me on the trip here, standing silently by the entrance of the room. I nod to him, and he nods back. Turning around, he grabs a strong deckhand, who came with us just for this moment, and they exit the room.

"Where are they going, Your Grace?" Prince Doran asks me.

"To get a gift that I brought for you. Whether or not you decide to join me against this rebellion, it is yours to do whatever you wish to do with it. I just hope that, if nothing else, it will at least keep you in Dorne, and not going against me." I say, surprise and confusion in the eyes of the Dornish family. "Remind me what happened to your niece that night." I request openly to either brother.

Doran answers me. "She was pulled from under her father's bed, and stabbed a half hundred times." His eyes show sorrow and rage as he speaks.

"And who stabbed her?" I ask, knowing the answer.

"Amory Lorch." Oberyn chirps in from his seat.

The door opens, and I turn to see Ser Balon and the deckhand walk back in holding a rather large chest. A chest that is big enough to hold a full grown man. Uncomfortably, but it would still hold them. After dropping the huge chest unceremoniously onto the ground, I turn towards the audience that is surrounding me.

"Tywin Lannister and Gregor Clegane are currently waging war against the North, while destroying the Riverlands in the process. But, after losing most of his calvary, Tywin ordered Amory Lorch to return back to Casterly Rock and collect more men." I look around to see that I have the Martells' full attention as I speak. "After having successfully collected the men, he traveled to Lannisport and began to drink. After drinking far too much, he entered a brothel, in search of a woman. After his fun, and even more drinking, he was last seen stumbling towards the docks of the city." I smile as I finish. Their eyes following me.

I walk behind the large chest, and unlock it. "I give you," I say as I open the lid and grab the bound and gagged man out, before throwing him down, "Amory Lorch."

When the body of the horrible man hits the ground, the sound echoes throughout my head. The dull throb in my head only intensifies as I realize that I sentenced this man to die a horrible death.

Oberyn stands from his seat, the elder Sand Snakes grab at their weapons, but do not draw them. The younger children sit silently, unmoving. But, Doran's reaction is the most surprising. He looks to the man, before turning back to stare at me. I expected anger, or excitement, not silence.

"What do you want for him?" He asks simply, his voice subdued as he speaks.

I shake my head. "You misunderstand. He is a gift for your family. Whether you fight with me, or not, he will stay here. The world thinks him dead, so that will help you." I look at Oberyn, who is almost ready to strike the man, and turn back to Doran. "He is to show you that I am not my father, that I am willing to help you get the justice you crave." I say firmly.

"What happens if we fight with you?" Doran asks me. Oberyn looks to me, waiting for my answer.

"If we win, at the end of Renly's Rebellion, you shall get Gregor Clegane, unless, of course, he should fall in battle." I respond. "But I must ask that before he is delivered to you, I get one day with him." I say.

"And what could you possibly want with him, Your Grace?" A husky voice asks from the opposite side of Doran.

I turn towards the voice, and fully view Arianne Martell for the first time. Her large dark eyes are the first thing I spot, I almost got lost in them. After forcefully breaking contact with her eyes, I barely manage to get past looking at her full lips. She is short, barely over five foot tall. Her hair is long, falling to the middle of her back in dark lustrous ringlets. I can easily see her large, round breasts that is being covered up by golden silk and lavish jewels. I wish she would have chosen different attire for this day, perhaps something more revealing. I shake myself out of the thoughts, before I do not have the strength to do so, and answer her.

"He is a popular man. I have already promised vengeance to another." My eyes look towards Ruby, who moves from her laying position. She stands and begins to wander towards me, rubbing her head across my legs when she reaches me.

The Princess of Dorne stares at me for a long moment, before smiling a dazzling smile at me. Father once told me that Dornish women have been trained in the sexual arts since birth. It was implemented into them for so long, that they can not stop it from happening, it is a natural process for them. Seeing Arianne just smile at me proves that theory. I have to turn away from the Dornish beauty before I begin wearing a blush.

"And, as I said earlier, there will be a spot on the Small Council will be for you." I say to Doran, who nods.

"And what about Tywin?" Oberyn asks.

I look towards the sharp eyed man. "For all of the man's faults, he is of my blood. And for that reason alone, he will not be a part of this deal as a prisoner." Oberyn continues to switch his stare between me and Lorch. "But, should you decide to move against Tywin and the Westerlands, I will not step in to stop you nor will I contribute to either side." Doran nods slowly. "I understand that this is a lot to think on, so I do not need an answer right now. But, I will be leaving in just a few days time though, so please decide quickly?" I almost beg of the gout-ladened ruler.

"We will discuss it as a family, and come to a decision before you board the ship to leave." Doran says to me. "But you and your companions must be tired, perhaps I should have someone show to some guest rooms?" He asks in calm voice.

I nod, gratefully. "That would be most appreciated, Prince Doran."

The ruling Prince of Dorne turns towards a hulking mass of a man. Areo Hotah, the captain of Sunspear's guard. A man with broad shoulders, and shaggy white hair. Sadly, I can not tell if it is his natural color, or if age is the reason.

"Areo, please escort King Draedon and his company to the rooms in the guest wing." The ruling Prince of Dorne says to the possibly old man.

Areo nods his head in understanding, he grabs his long axe, and begins moving towards the door. Petting Ruby, I gesture towards Ser Balon to follow, and we begin after the silent man. My feline companion silently trotting beside me as I exit the room full of Dorne's royal family, and a knight who will probably be in pain for the rest of his limited days.

As the thought crosses my mind, my skull throbs violently. I just want to lie down in an actual bed for the first time in weeks, and forget about Amory Lorch for the rest of my life.

* * *

 **Eddard POV**

Being in the Riverlands has become more of a nuisance than I would have imagined it to be. The rainfall that has occured these past few days has been just dreadful on my leg. The storms bring a tremendous amount of pain to my leg, while the mud that is left from it, is just terrible to trudge through. Then again, perhaps it is my fault for not really giving it the necessary time to heal. But, I could not stay in the capital any longer, not after I discovered the foul... habits of the Queen and her brother.

The fact that Robert had a true-born heir is easily the most surprising fact that I had found out from my stay in that disgusting city. They claimed he had four children, but only in name alone. The three younger ones are the spawn of incestrous couplings from the golden twins of Tywin Lannister.

But, these thoughts are cleared from my mind, as I trudge towards a small tent, with my son, Robb, following behind me. I, myself, followed behind Ser Barristan Selmy, a familiar face that I was not expecting to see here on the battlefield. Him being here means one of three things.

Firstly, it could mean that he has abandoned his post as Lord Commander, but I sincerely doubt that happened. Ser Barristan is too honorable to do that.

Secondly, he escorted the King here. That would be surprising, I do not see Draedon coming here without the entirety of the Stormlands behind him.

And that leaves the third option; Ser Barristan is here as an envoy for Draedon. I expected this after the first missive about Renly rebelling against Draedon and his mother. Renly had also sent a missive to me, asking me to throw the power of the northern banners behind him and his cause.

And I would have been lying if I said that I was not tempted to do so. Stannis will undoubtedly stand behind Draedon in his war. Duty and family is his biggest concern, Draedon is the rightful king and Stannis will accept that. And if Stannis does not join Renly out of duty for fighting for the right King, how can I not do the same?

All I could think is that this better be worth the pain I have endured to get here. The two hour ride was just torture on my throbbing leg. Every step of the horse, sent a jolt of pain through my entire body. Barristan tried to ride at a comfortable pace for me, but it did not help much.

A deep fear enters my body as I spot a handful of guards in Lannister red, standing near a pack of horses. Close to a dozen of them. The garrison I brought with me is smaller, only seven men. If a fight breaks out, we are out numbered, and that is something I do not like.

Moving the tan flap with my arm that isn't holding the cane, I look around at all of the occupants that are already here inside the tent, surrounding a dark cherry wood table that takes up the majority of the room that is available in the enclosed space. Ser Barristan standing at attention behind the head of the table. At his side, the burned man they call the Hound, Sandor Clegane, staring at me and my eldest child as we enter. His scarred face glistening in the torchlight, his burns oozing a red substance. It is not blood, but I can not identify it.

A man I have never seen before sitting at the head of the long table. He is young, mayhaps a few years after his twentieth nameday. He has light brown hair that comes down to below his ears, but the length does not mean much. It is swept back, in a way many would consider windblown. His eyes are an unusual shade of brown. Lightly colored, but darker than amber. He sits with one leg stretched out underneath the table, a cane leaning on his chair. The parchment in front of him is the only thing adorning the table.

At the table, also sits an aged man with a shaved head. Golden whiskers streak down the sides of his face, trimmed properly, even in a time of war. Broad-shouldered even in his advanced age. A man with an imposing calculating stare of green eyes, green eyes with flecks of gold staring at the table as we enter. An intimidating figure even when he is sitting. The man is Tywin Lannister.

Sitting beside him is a portly man of fair skin. Balding on top of his head, but what hair he has remaining is cut close to his head. A close cropped golden beard covers his massive jaw. Tywin's younger brother, Kevan.

All eyes, but one set, turn to me and Robb as we enter the darkened tent. We halt at the opening flaps, making no move towards the only open two seats. Eerie, almost deafening, silence is the only sound we can hear. No speaking, no drinking, no movement of any kind.

Until the crippled man stands hastily from his seat. His cane is swiftly in his hand to help steady his balance as he tries to stand to his full height. A grimace easily visible on his face as he finally stops rising, before it is quickly replaced with a warm smile. It is a foreign sight to see here on this soil. The land that has been overwhelmed with the blood of our country men.

"Lord Stark, I am glad that you have joined us. My name is Willas Tyrell." The young man stiffly bows towards us, grimace reappearing as he does so. I bow my head towards him in acknowledgement, I see Robb mimicking my movements. "Please, sit down, so that we may begin negotiations to end this needless feud." Willas extends his hand towards the open seats, opposite of the Old Lion.

I notice that Tywin did not stand when we entered. Coming from a Great House, the traditions are burned into you as a child. Even in the North, away from the politics and the alliance making. You show respect to people that are of equal or greater status to you, to people with titles. Tywin not standing, or even acknowledging the entrance of a Lord of a Great House, is just his way of trying to belittle me. His way of going to war with me on a mental level.

It shows that he believes I, and my entire family, am below him. It is a tactic that I am sure he is using to make me angry. To make me furious, so furious that I try to prove to him that I am worthy of his respect. I would prove it by sending my men in an ill advised attack against his easily defendable camp. Sadly, for him, I will not fall for it, and send my men to their deaths.

"I would rather stand, if that is fine with you." I answer back, rather stiffly. I just want to leave.

He nods his head at my words. "I understand that, my Lord. Truly, I do. But I must insist that you take a seat, this meeting may take a while." He smiles gently at us, but I can not tell if it is genuine or a ploy.

I reluctantly agree with his suggestion to sit down, as my leg begins to ache fiercely. I tentatively take the offered seat, I look over to see Robb following my actions. I thought bringing him along would be a smart decision, a way to help instill in him the politics necessary for when he begins to Lord over the North and Winterfell.

Looking at him, I realize that his dark auburn locks have grown to his shoulders almost. The makings of a beard adorning his jawline. He is becoming a man, and quickly as well. He is younger than I was when I was at war for the first time. The thought of that saddens me.

"I have been sent as an emissary by King Draedon, first of his name, to persuade you to put your weapons down against one another, and to pick them up in his name against the false King Renly." Willas states openly to the room.

"And why would His Grace send you as an emissary and not someone else? Perhaps someone of a higher station?" Kevan asks the boy. Begrudgingly, I accept it as a question I wish to know as well.

Willas places a smile on his face before he answers. "I understand your hesitation in me being the one to help this treaty happen. But it is misplaced, my Lord." He begins to sit a little straighter. "King Draedon has named me his Master of Coin on the Small Council. And as wars cost a considerable amount of coin, His Grace has decided that I should be the one to oversee this agreement." I was not expecting that answer, and judging by the looks on everyone else's faces, I am not alone.

"So, who wishes to start the negotiation?" The young Master of Coin asks the room openly.

Both sides are declining to speak first, the already thick tension growing palpable. Kevan keeps his stare pointed towards Tywin. Robb looks towards the Tyrell boy. Willas transitions his eyes between Tywin and myself. While Tywin finally looks towards us for the first time since we entered. I feel his stare on me, forcing me to looking towards him. Green and gold meet grey, and a battle begins.

Both of us refusing to break the battle of wills we have begun. To be the first to break eye contact will show weakness, which is something neither of us can afford to do now. After a half minute of silent staring, I can see Robb begin to shift uncomfortably in his seat. I brought him along to show how the world will work if he ever comes to the South again, to show him how to handle these situations.

He has to know when to put your differences aside for the greater good. Men, Lords especially, are fickle and they need their egos stroked, and the best way to do that is by making them feel like they are in charge and are making the decisions. He needs to see how the game can be manipulated in his favor. I have to initiate the conversation with Tywin.

I sigh inwardly at the thought. "I am willing to work out an agreement between us that will put an end to all of this, if Lord Tywin is." My eyes never stray from the Old Lion's.

Silence, once again, fills the small room. He never loses his composure. He does not show any sort of indication that he heard my words. No subtle widening of his eyes, no movement of his body, not a single indication. His only reaction was a few blinks of his eyes.

"Well good, then. I have already spoken with Lord Tywin before you arrived here. He has concessions for you that I would expect you to not accept." Tywin and Kevan look towards the young man in mild surprise. "Which is exactly why His Grace has terms that he believes you will both accept quite readily." A small smirk plays at his lips as he finishes his words.

"Are the terms that agreeable?" Robb speaks up for the first time.

A full smile adorns the young Tyrell's face when he answers. "It is more likely that should you disagree to them, the punishment will be both swift and harsh." Willas and the Hound make eye contact briefly, before Willas turns around to face Robb.

Robb takes one look at the Hound and proceeds to promptly sink into his chair. I dare a glance towards the burned man, only to see him staring back at me, hand on the pommel of his sword. I do not break my look for a few moments, I can not appear to look weak to anyone. Especially to the person who spends the most time with Draedon.

Willas clears his throat to gain everyone's attention. I finally look away from Clegane, and toward the heir to Highgarden. "Firstly, you shall release the prisoners that you have. From what I hear, you both have quite a few of them."

That is a true statement. Wylis Manderly, the heir to White Harbor, Lord Medger Cerwyn, and Harrion Karstark are all prisoners of the Lannisters. They are not the only ones, but the most important of them. While we have imprisoned some of our own enemies. Enemies such as Tywin's favorite son, the infamous Kingslayer, Ser Jaime Lannister.

"Lord Stark," I turn and look towards Willas, "for your involvement in this unnecessary feud, Winterfell, as well as the rest of the North, will receive a higher taxing for the next seven years."

I scoff at his words. "Seven years of higher taxes? That is a bit severe, don't you believe?" Tywin has a almost unnoticeable smirk on his face.

"His Grace believes that one year of higher taxes for every battle that you fought in was a fair and just punishment. The extra coin will be put towards buying supplies for the upcoming Winter, whenever it shall arrive."

I take a deep breath. "Winter is coming." My voice is met with silence and a slow nod from Barristan.

"You Starks' are always right eventually." Willas says with a light chuckle, before his face becomes serious once again. "Now, for the Westerlands' punishment." Tywin and Kevan move in sync, as their heads turn towards the young man. The Master of Coin's face shows a hint of being unnerved by their movements. "The King has decided that Casterly Rock and the rest of the Westerlands shall find a way to pull together a sum of three million gold dragons and deliver it to the ruling House of the Riverlands, the Tullys. If Lord Stark could tell his married family of this agreement, it would help greatly move this long and arduous recovery along."

I nod my head once at the request. Catelyn can make sure Edmure does not do anything too rash, that is if I can convince Catelyn of the necessity of this deal, as she will be gone too pleased about a deal with the Lannisters.

"Secondly, Lord Tywin, King Draedon believes that because of the unauthorized destruction of the Crown's land, the debt the Crown has accrued with you and House Lannister should voided and nullified."

"My son was falsely taken prisoner by the Starks and put on trial for ridiculous crimes. Crimes he did not commit." The Old Lion speaks for the first time since I have entered the pavilion. "So what, as a father, was I supposed to do when these slandering accusations reached my ears? Sit idly by until he was set free or killed," he scoffs, "what kind of Lord would I be?"

"His Grace would have seen to the issues when the time came, and he would have doled the punishments out, as well. Time was what was needed, not bloodshed of men who had nothing to do with Tyrion's imprisonment." Willas responds quickly.

"A different King sat on the throne at the time. And I doubted in his involvement in the situation. I did what I believed to be necessary, so I feel these concessions are unjust and thus cannot be accepted." Tywin says deliberately.

"My Lord..."

Tywin slaps the table. "They took my son." He says loudly.

Kevan looks to Barristan and the Hound, both have their hands on their swords, ready to draw them quickly. Tywin stares down at Willas, who looks increasingly more uncomfortable as the stare continues. Robb nearly jumped out of his chair when Tywin's hand hit the table.

"My Lord, I was told by the King himself, that if I should return to the capital without either both you _and_ Lord Stark, in tow, or without both of your signatures on this non-aggression pact agreement, that you will be branded as traitors to the Crown, and thus you will be far more severely punished when His Grace is done dealing with the Rebellion of his Uncle." Willas responds, pushing the parchment that sits in front of him towards the Old Lion.

Tywin grabs the parchment up from the table and begins reading over it slowly. Kevan begins to glance towards it, as well. So silence once again fills the small room, a now familiar sound to my ears. I see Robb turn towards me, and then to Willas, who makes eye contact with him. A head nod is exchanged before they both look away.

"How long do I have to think on this agreement?" Tywin asks after a full three minutes of silent reading, startling us all.

"You will either leave here with it signed and this feud moot, or you will leave as a traitor." Willas answers in a soft voice.

The Old Lion looks towards his brother, and then to me. We stare at each other for what feels like minutes, before he closes his eyes and takes a very heavy breath.

As he opens them, he looks back to the parchment before turning to Willas. "Do you have a quill?"


End file.
